Dressed to Chill
by EntreNous
Summary: The boys are all dressed up with nowhere to go. Tseng has other plans though, and takes Reno on a special little trip of his own.
1. Chapter 1

"Tuxedoes... This is ridiculous."

"It's not ridiculous, Reno. Quit complaining."

"Why can't we just wear our regular uniforms?"

"Because it is a black tie affair, and we need to _blend_ ," explained Tseng with careful enunciation. You can always tell he's losing his patience when he starts enunciating. Not that this was his first time explaining all this to me, I just loved to get him hot under the collar. Hey, if sheets weren't available, this would have to do.

"I'll _blend_ , all right. It's an open bar, ain't it?"

Tseng's eyes narrowed until they were practically non-existent in his face. It's a wonder he could still see to drive. I laughed out loud at him before I could stop myself, and he rolled his eyes and sighed like only a weary mother can.

"Thing is," I said philosophically, "I've made it my entire life this far without having to squeeze into a penguin suit, and Shinra's stupid niece's stupid wedding is breaking my streak. I can't believe I have to dress up for someone I don't even know. Damn. It's not like we're _in_ the fucking thing."

"You're _working_ it. And you'll be getting overtime. Besides, our _boss_ is blowing enough cash on this shindig to buy a small nation, so we'd _better_ look nice."

"Hmph," I grunted. "Five million... _five million fucking gil_..." I boggled. "FIVE," I repeated, this time emphasizing my point by splaying my palm. "Imagine having that kinda dough to blow on a _party_ , for cryin' out loud. And why's The Old Man paying for it anyway? She's not _his_ daughter."

"Because President Shinra never resists the opportunity to make his big brother look like a worthless idiot."

I snorted. "Worthless," I said. "The dude owns his own fast-food chain."

"Yes, well, it's not his own _power company_ , now is it?"

I shrugged, noncommittally. "Guess not." Personally, I couldn't see the difference. If person "A" has as much money as God, and person "B" has _more_ money than God, it doesn't make a damn bit of difference, because I got no freaking idea how much God is worth anyway. I understand if I had a gil for every second I've been alive, a billion would leave me somewhere in my fifties...not to mention one rich motherfucker. About right there is when I hit the ceiling of my understanding.

Still... Imagine being in _that_ family. Mama Shinra must be proud. And loaded as hell. "And Shinra's brother doesn't have a problem with the Old Man making him look like a complete tool?"

Tseng flashed me a quick knowing look. "Five million gil wedding? Let's see... the man's daughter gets to have the royal wedding of her dreams and _he_ doesn't have to pay a single cent. He is _not_ an idiot."

"Think the Old Man gives his brother a break on the power bill for his burger joints?"

"I doubt it. I wouldn't be surprised if he found a way to charge him more, actually."

"Damn, talk about sibling rivalry," I said. "Those two make Cain and Able look like the Gemini Twins."

"You're mixing your mythologies..." Tseng remarked. Oh, just leave it to him to shoot down the one decently educated comment I make all week. Smarty. Like keeping up with his brain is easy. I've even had to, gasp, _read_ some since I started trying to make conversation with this guy. Not sure that it's made me much smarter, but at least I'm better informed.

"So, what's the catch?" I asked, getting back on topic.

Tseng frowned. "What do you mean?"

"Shinra. What's he get out of throwing five gigs at his niece's wedding?"

"He gets to give the bride away," he said.

"Ouch!" I flinched. "Damn... Not even letting her dad give her away on her own wedding day? Kinda harsh, ain't it?"

Tseng gave an indifferent shrug. "There's _always_ a catch, isn't there? I've heard that the niece and her father never got along all that well to begin with. Besides, I think the Old Man wants to throw a wedding while he still can, but, well...there's a not a lot of prospects for Rufus right now."

I barked a derisive laugh. "Not until they allow same-sex marriages," I said meaningfully.

"Hey, watch it," warned Tseng, but not before I saw a playful flash of humor in his eyes. "I _meant_ that he's still too young."

"Oh, _right_ ," I scoffed. "C'mon, that's like the worst kept secret in town... They didn't call Rufus Shinra 'Head Master' at his prep school because he was in charge of the place. I'm betting not a lot has changed now he's in college. And anyway..." I said, feeling my grin turn slightly feral, "not like _I_ have any room to criticize..." I let my words trail away on that thought for a moment. Not that I even entertain the idea of marriage, be it gay, straight, interracial, interspecies, or inter- _anything_. Hell, the idea makes _me_ laugh, and _I'm_ the incurable romantic in this establishment. Still, it's hella-fun to tease. "So, Tseng... If they _did_ allow same-sex marriages—"

"Don't even go there, Reno," he said flatly. "I didn't like marriage the first time."

"Yeah, but you weren't with _me_ ," I feigned a sniff. "C'mon, sweetheart. You wouldn't give me an 'I do?' Not even if I gave you a ring?"

Tseng ignored me for the moment as he expertly maneuvered his car into a parking space in the sexiest display of parallel parking I'd ever seen. Christ, even his driving gets me hot. He pulled his keys out of the ignition and then leaned over the console between us, his face mere millimeters from mine. I flashed a cheeky grin right back at him.

"'I _do_ ' think you should shut your mouth," he growled, his breath ruffling my hair, "and 'I _do_ ' think you should not ever call me that again, or I shall ' _ring_ ' your neck."

He was smirking. He never fully means it when he's smirking. What I wouldn't do to be able to kiss that smirk right off his mouth right now—not even a breath away from me, he was so close it was killing me—but we were in public. In front of a clothing store, no less. Ugh... I glanced over at the storefront and my grin melted. "Why didn't Rude hafta come?" I sulked.

"He already got his," Tseng answered, unlatching his seat belt.

I stayed put in my seat like my ass was glued to it. "I don't suppose you went with _him_ ," I sassed.

"I didn't have to," he said opening his door and getting out. "He does what I tell him to _the first time I ask him_." He punctuated the end of his statement by pushing his door shut a little harder than strictly necessary. I still wasn't moving.

"Brownnoser," I muttered to the empty car as I crossed my arms and scowled. A few seconds later, my door opened for me.

"Out," Tseng ordered.

"It's a waste of money, you know," I argued, still seated. "I could just _rent_ one."

" _You're_ not paying for it. What do _you_ care?"

Moving very slow and deliberate and generally making a huge production of not wanting to be there, I unbuckled my seat belt and let it retract away from me. "When am _I_ ever going to wear a tuxedo again?"

Like an asp, Tseng struck out at me, grabbed me by my lapel of my uniform blazer and yanked me out of the car to my feet to stand in front of him. Fuck, but he is strong for a goddamn string bean. He grabbed two handfuls of my shirt and stuck his face in mine again. "You will wear it _when_ I tell you to, _where_ I tell you to, and _how_ I tell you to," he growled. "And you will take it off when I tell you as well—"

"Hopefully sooner than later," I purred. He glared at me and gave me a tight smile. One that looked more threatening than it actually was. I was getting pretty good at reading Tseng these days, and this was a whole new look I'd been getting from him lately. It was a significant improvement from the old one, the one that could deep freeze a mammoth in its tracks. Lot better, too. Far as I could tell, this new one was somewhere between exasperated and horny. I liked this look. It, at least, let me know I was doing something halfway _right_ for once.

He ignored my comment, but his eyes gleamed with amusement. "Stuff a sock in it," he commanded, "and get in there." He let go of my shirt and gave me a light shove in the direction of the shop.

"Socks?" I frowned and stopped in my tracks. "Nobody said anything about wearing socks."

"Reno!"

"I'm goin', I'm goin'!"

Well, you know. With Tseng, it's best not to _overdo_ it...

"Ah! Signore Tsennng-ah! Ow aaahre you? So good to _seeee_ you again!"

A silver-haired, wiry, not particularly ugly, but not particularly attractive man galloped up to Tseng as soon as we walked in.

I stepped to the side to avoid being greeted to death and gave Tseng a special look of my own: _Oh you have_ got _to be fucking kidding me._

Tseng ignored me. "Buongiorno, Giovanni," he said, keeping his voice deep, low and serious. Oh what a character he was. To keep myself from cracking up, I broke off from him and circled a bit around the boutique. Er, manly...guy...suit...shop. Christ, who cared? I could still hardly believe I was here. It was, unsurprisingly, the most boring place I'd been all year. And I regularly attend staff meetings at work. It was a shop. And it had a bunch of suits. Imagine that. I headed for the clearance rack. Might as well get this over with.

"I'll'a get your suit, Signore Tseng. It's all ready for you right here in d'back."

"Hold on that for a moment, Giovanni," Tseng said. And then he quickly closed the gap between the two of them to speak privately. Even though there was no one else in the store. I snickered and randomly flipped through the clothing rack. Tseng can't have a conversation with anyone that doesn't look like a conspiracy operation. He barely ever speaks above a deep-toned whisper. Well, in public, anyway. The guy can yell like a banshee when we're alone, though. I'd call him a huge fake, but a guy can hardly be held responsible for anything he does when in the throes of passion. I'll just leave it at _mostly_ he really _is_ that quiet.

Ohhh, boy. I did _not_ need to go there right now. It was only Wednesday and Friday—our "late night meeting" night—was far, far away, it seemed. And you can only jerk off so much in a day, man. I have to work _some_ time. I flipped through the clothes faster.

I paused when I picked out the words, "My associate" and "fitting" and "tuxedo" and "The Wedding (™)" over the classical Muzak playing overhead. Obviously, Tseng didn't trust me to be able to dress myself. Hmph. So much for individual taste.

I came to the most hideous thing on the rack: a powder-blue tux with a white ruffled shirt and maroon piping. It had "Lounge Singer" written all over it. Or "Band Director." Or "Pathetic Loser That Couldn't Get A Date To The Prom And Didn't Know Why." Hey, wait, that was me. Except I'd worn torn-up jeans and a t-shirt. And I'd had a two-foot Mohawk at the time. And I'd never gone to that high school. And I was 22, but _still_. Not even the ugly chicks would dance with me. Way to have killed a guy's ego, you know?

I picked up the suit and held it up to myself. "Hey, Tseng, how's this look?" I asked, feigning complete seriousness.

Both he and Giovanni broke their conversation for a moment to turn to me and give me looks of abject disgust. They turned back to one another immediately. "As I was saying..." I heard Tseng clearly emphasize. And then he said a bunch of crap I didn't understand: "Jean Yves, wool, single-breasted, two-button notch, full back silk vest in black, _no_ cummerbund. And standard black silk bowtie..."

Oh boy. The dreaded " _Tie_ " word. I understood that, loud and clear. I sighed like I was headed to my own execution. This zoo of a wedding was already shaping up to be a _great_ night.

"No clip on's," said Tseng. "Tasteless."

"Well," said Giovanni, gesturing appropriately for his stereotype toward me, "look what I have to worrrk weeth."

"Oh, ha ha," I lamely butted in. "Tseng paid you to say that, didn't he?"

"Not yet," the tailor answered. He leaned over to Tseng. "I assume Shin-Ra _is_ picking up the tab, no?"

Tseng nodded.

"Please," I scoffed. "Even _I_ have better taste than this." I hung the horrendous thing back on the rack as quick as possible, as if it could infect me with its horribleness. "You actually sell those things?" I asked the tailor, making my way over to them.

"Ah, no," he said, matter-of-factly, "that is why eet's on the clearance rack." And then I thought I heard him turn into Tseng and mutter something like, "Idiota..." Tseng, I noticed, did not defend me in the least. Instead he cleared his throat behind his fist trying to suppress what better not have been a laugh.

"Fine," I announced loudly, stopping in the middle of the shop. "Lay it on me. Dress me up like a goddamn Ken doll, I don't care. Just get me the hell out of here as soon as possible."

Giovanni turned his indifferent gaze slowly up at Tseng, waiting for his permission, and Tseng gave him a nod that was equally indifferent.

"Verrry well," said the tailor, picking a suit off a rack nearby, "we'll start weeth thees..."

I had no idea tuxedos could be so bloody heavy. Giovanni loaded me down with only three of 'em, plus all their damn little accessories, and it felt like I was carrying around a fifty-pound sack of rice.

Tseng supervised all this extreme excitement, nodding his approval or shaking his head on cue when Giovanni would ask him "yes?" or "no?" to this or that. Damn. I had no idea Tseng had this much clue about fashion. I mean, yeah, the guy wears three-thousand gil suits, and I don't even think he owns a pair of jeans—hell, his Turk uniform is dressing _down_ —but this was nuts. The man was a regular Fashionista. He played it straight, of course. But if I'd known this about him when I first met him, I wouldn't have worried so much about which side of the fence he played on.

To make things worse, Giovanni claimed he was having a hard time finding anything in my size. "You skin and bones, ' _camello_.' You should try to bulk up. Eat pasta. Latz a' pasta."

I wasn't sure what he'd called me, but I was pretty sure it wasn't nice. I rolled my eyes over at Tseng who still continued to look quite amused. "I can't help it," I droned to the tailor. "I'm small-boned." That, at least, got a full smile from Tseng, who's never once complained about my "skin and bones" at all.

Giovanni puttered around his shop a while longer continuing to find more things for me that he supposedly didn't have in my size. Finally he steered me to the back of the store into one of the dressing rooms stalls. And thank god, because my arms were beginning to feel like noodles from carrying around all this crap. Apparently he had found my awkwardness rather amusing since I heard him tell Tseng outside the dressing room, "I hung'a your suit for you in d'back, Signore Tseng. You try eet on when you like." Yeah, and thank _you_ for your personal fucking assistance, Signore Asshole.

I groused and grumbled and kicked off my shoes inside the dressing stall.

"How are we doing?" Tseng purred, staring over the top of the door at me. He was taller than the top of it—in fact, _I_ was taller than the door and I wondered what the point of having it was.

I looked over at him and scowled darkly. "Great," I snapped, "if you don't mind being humiliated. I think your tailor's a little loose in the raviolis."

Tseng quietly chuckled and leaned on the outside of the door, giving himself a very convenient view. I'd undressed a thousand times in front of Tseng—hell, usually he has a hard time keeping clothes on me—but I'd never felt this much on display. "Enjoying the show, there, _dad_?"

His eyebrows arched imperiously. "Excuse me?"

"I feel like a kid whose father is taking him to buy his first suit."

"Yes, you've grown up fast, Reno. I'm so proud," he said without skipping a beat. "You've become a _real_ boy."

"Shut up."

I finished stripping down to my underwear. "Try that one," Tseng nodded toward one of the suits hanging on one of the racks in the small room with me.

"Hold your goddamn chocobos, I'm getting there. You can't rush perfection, you know." I ignored Tseng's snort and unwrapped the first tuxedo shirt I'd been given. I threw it around me and buttoned it up to my collarbones and no higher. No fucking way I was buttoning it all the way up. At least not until someone made me.

I stepped into the pants—they were a little long, but that's what the tailor was for...even _I_ knew that—then I threw on the vest next. I stared at myself in the mirror—a three-foot by four-foot stall with mirrors on all sides, how could I not? Already, though, I was surprised how it looked on me. Suddenly I didn't look like a sloppy little slum rat. I looked like a slum wearing a nice suit. Amazing what clothes can do for a man.

Tseng had fallen quiet. I looked over at him as I picked up the black blazer that would complete the whole thing. " _Well_?"

He studied me thoughtfully, like I was some kind of puzzle he'd been assigned to figure out. "You forgot something," he finally said, and then tossed a roll of black dress socks over the door and beaned them off my head. They bounced to the floor and into the corner of the stall where I didn't move to touch them.

"Jackass," I muttered. "They can wait. I don't need 'em _yet_." I swung the blazer on and found it actually fit me quite nicely. I also found I didn't look half bad. "Whaddya think?" I asked.

Tseng was still considering this. "I don't like it," he decided, authoritatively. "Try that one."

I threw up my hands and sighed. "How can you even freaking tell? They all look the same to me."

"They're not," he simply said. Well, shit, that just explained everything, didn't it? Actually, I was glad he didn't elaborate, as I'm sure he could have. I was already dying of boredom, no need to speed it up and pull the plug.

Ten minutes later, I was all dressed up again in a new suit.

"Are you do-eeng okay back there, Signore Reno?" Giovanni called from the front.

"Yeah, great," I called, and then muttered under my breath, "just freaking _peachy_." I looked over to Tseng. "How this one, _dad_?"

"Better," he mused. "Come out of there and let me see."

"Oh, boy," I mumbled, "here comes the gay parade."

"Quiet," he warned. He led me out into the small walkway between dressing stalls to the three-way mirror at the end. I stood there and tolerated him as he preened and groomed me, first dusting off my shoulders, then my sleeves, and lapels. For no particular reason I could tell, he then tugged on the end of my ponytail. I gave him a mildly annoyed look.

"Where's the tie?" he asked, once he had my attention.

Sighing, I motioned back in the dressing stall, and he stepped away for a moment and brought it back with him. I rolled my eyes in protest, but he ignored it.

Standing right behind me, he draped the silk tie over my shoulders, then leaned over me and buttoned up my collar for me all the way. He was close enough I could feel his heat through his clothes. The front of his thigh accidentally grazed the back of mine. His fingers absently brushed over my neck. I felt my stomach tighten...just a little. He crossed the tie in front of me and then turned me slowly around to face him. Concentrating fully on his task, his long fingers worked the silk through a complicated bow. I watched his face, so calm and solemn, and if I weren't so goddamn horny for him, I would've laughed at how serious he was taking all this.

Tseng finished tying the bow, and his fingers lighted, for just a moment, on my chest. He continued to scrutinize me up and down, paying close attention to aesthetics, I suppose. I didn't bother telling him you couldn't look for something that wasn't there to being with. I'm not sure he would've heard me, anyway.

Slowly, he reached up and brushed a strand of hair that had fallen in my eyes. I saw him moisten his lips, I watched his throat as he swallowed hard. His eyes gleamed like black mercury. I felt humbled under that gaze. Nobody's ever looked at me like that— _nobody_. I've caught myself wondering at one time or another if I even deserve it. And if I do, why hadn't it happened before? Common Sense tells me I shouldn't give a flying fuck. _Tseng_ noticed and that's all that should matter. But exactly _what_ did he notice? Was it the red hair? The green eyes? My "great" personality? Or did Tseng just have lousy taste? Not bloody likely... The man was dishing out four thousand gil out of his own pocket today for a suit he was probably gonna wear _once_. If there's one thing Tseng has, it's taste. So, then...what? What does he see in _me_?

He looked into my eyes and I saw the heat behind that gaze, and Common Sense took over on autopilot.

I'm pretty sure Tseng actually forgot where he was for a moment. Those moistened lips parted, and I could just feel his breath on my face. And it's a damn good thing one of us was breathing because I know I wasn't. I was holding mine, wondering would he really do it? Sure, he'd gone into the fitting area with me, but there's not a lot of suspicion about that, just two guys in a locker room, more or less. But this was different. Would he really kiss me? Here? In _public_? There was only a thin veil of reality keeping us separated as it was, and I can't say that I would've stopped him. In fact, I know I wouldn't have.

He stared hazily at my mouth, and I slowly licked the back of my teeth in anticipation as I imagined him moving closer to kiss me. Of course, the bastard _didn't_. He stood rooted to one spot. Little too grounded in reality, in my opinion. But I tried every telepathic signal I could think of to get him to.

He took a breath. "Try—" Tseng broke off abruptly, his voice dry and throaty, calmly cleared it and tried again. "Try on the last one," he breathed, attempting to gain some kind of control over himself. "Just to see."

I grinned, wide as my face would let me, and gave him a cavalier wink. "You got it... Boss."

Turning back into the dressing stall, I realized I'd been going about this all wrong. All along, I'd been dreading this stupid trip when I should've been _milking_ it! That's when I decided to start having a little fun.

I peeled off the blazer, exaggerating my movements by arching my back a little more than I probably needed to. Tseng didn't follow me this time, so I shed the coat with one arm and pulled the tie loose with the other before I even reached the booth. I couldn't be sure he was watching me, but I casually looked over my shoulder just briefly before stepping in, and saw him standing fixed to his spot in front of the mirror, one arm folded over his chest supporting the other as he slowly stroked his bottom lip. He seemed to smolder. And he was definitely watching me.

"Be right back," I sang, waggling my eyebrows just a little bit.

Of course, once I got back inside the dressing room, my perspective changed some. It was gonna take me ten minutes to change the suit and all its ridiculous little pieces...

The last suit fit me better than the rest; very little alteration would need to be done. Not sure it looked any better or worse than the rest, but, as any of my old girlfriends would say, my idea of fashion is putting on whatever smells the least that day. Hey, I might prefer guys now—or one in particular, at least—but I'm still a guy, too. Some habits won't ever break.

Sure enough, though, I got hung up on some of those details. The damn tie, for instance. No way I was ever gonna be able to replicate the knot Tseng made, and I wondered why the fuck I'd even undone it in the first place. Not like this shirt was much different from the others. And don't get me started on the _suspenders_ , for cryin' in a beer...

"Everything all right?" Tseng asked after I'm sure he heard me muttering curses to myself.

"Well, these goddamn suspenders aren't tight enough," I griped and fiddled with the straps. "What the hell do I need these for anyway? The suit fits just fine without 'em."

"So leave them off," he replied. "Let's see how it looks."

"All right, all right... And what the hell's wrong with these sleeves?" I said noticing the shirt cuffs as I unlocked the door. "There's no buttons." I walked out, tugging at the sleeves under the jacket. By now I was too agitated to remember that I'd been trying to seduce Tseng into a kiss, so my Charm-O-Meter had plummeted back to zero.

"Cuff links, Reno, for the gods' sake. It's amazing you function on your own every mor—"

I stopped and looked up at the sudden break in his words. Especially in the middle of an insult. Tseng almost never misses an opportunity to point out one fault of mine or another.

He was staring at me. _Glaring_ , even. I wouldn't go so far as to say leering—sometimes it's still hard to read Tseng, though. His leer, glare, ponder, and frown look awfully similar. One way or another, though, he looked like a hungry tiger ready to pounce. The tips of my ears burned.

"Stop it," I snapped.

"Stop _what_?"

"Stop looking at me like that."

He drew back slightly and arched a haughty eyebrow. "Like _what_?"

"Like..." I paused a second and then closed my mouth again without an answer. He had me there, and I had no idea what to tell him. I didn't know. Like I'm worth a damn? Like I'm remotely desirable? Like he's looking _through_ me, not just _at_ me? Like... like _nobody else_ _ **ever**_ _has_?

"Like _what_ , Reno?" he repeated, his voice a rich, sultry baritone. He started to approach me; I felt like an insect under glass.

"Like I'm a piece of steak and you haven't eaten anything in days," I smirked. Hey, I could still act the part even if I wasn't convinced.

"I'm vegetarian," he came back.

"Don't avoid the topic."

"You can't take a compliment?"

"No."

"Then what if I just did this?"

"I..." I started. And then I never finished. Quicker than I could blink, he was there, his mouth locked on mine, tongue immediately thrust inside my mouth. I was reeling. It even took me a moment to register what was happening before I closed my eyes and gave in to it.

Right away, he pushed me back into the dressing stall never breaking contact. I was so caught in the feel of his lips, his face close to mine, his scent, every goddamn thing, he could've been pushing me off a cliff, and I would've gone right over without a notice.

He pulled the door closed, interrupting just for a moment to lock it behind us. Then he shoved me bodily against the far wall mirror and crashed into me, locking me in a kiss so hard, I felt it in my spine. There was hardly a part of him that didn't cover me. And all I could do was grab him, cling to him, and hope he wasn't going to come to his senses and suddenly stop what he was doing.

Tseng pushed me to the balls of my feet and held me there, pressed up against the mirror. He tore his mouth from mine and I groaned loudly to complain—"No," I gasped, tightening my grip on him; I was pretty sure I would actually die if he stopped now.

But he didn't. He bit my throat and nuzzled my neck, then moved his lips to graze against my earlobe before drawing it between his lips and sucking on it, tonguing my earring. "I'm not going anywhere," he whispered, his breath hot on my skin. I sighed a small sigh of relief that lingered and became a drawn out moan that somehow transformed into a high-pitched whimper. Ah, the things he was doing, just to my ear!

"Signore, are you all right?" came the tailor's voice at the opening to the back fitting area.

"Ungh... uh, yeah!" I called out, a little too enthusiastically.

"Smooth, Reno," Tseng quietly chuckled into my ear. He pressed his hand down my stomach toward my crotch, and every muscle in my body tensed.

"Have'a you found a suit you like?" Giovanni asked again.

I panted as Tseng's hand lightly brushed over the growing bulge at the front of my pants, as I was trying to parse what Giovanni was asking me. Oh, he was cruel! But I wasn't about to stop him, either. "Um, sure! Yeah... I just... I just have to finish, um...this...here..." I ran out of words and the motor skill required to form them and collapsed against Tseng.

"Okay, you let me know if I can 'a get you anything else. How about you, Signore Tseng? Did you try d' suit yet?"

"Not yet, Giovanni," Tseng said, completely cool and even, the bastard. "I'm giving my associate a hand first." Emphasizing this, he curled his fingers around my erection through the fabric of my pants and squeezed. I was trying my best not to pass out.

"Ah. All right," Giovanni said, seemingly satisfied. "You gentlemen 'a take your time."

"I intend to," Tseng intoned and grinned at me, steadily holding my gaze. I had just enough time to gulp a lungful of air before I grabbed his head and kissed him again.

His hands worked quickly; he unzipped my fly and reached in past the suit material, and stroked my shaft over a thin layer of raw silk—Tseng mentioned once to me he found silk boxers sexy, so I made sure I wore them all the time now in case, well...in case of times like this. When apparently I was just too irresistible for him to take it.

It hazily occurred to me then that tuxedos work a lot like lingerie on a woman: it exists solely to rip it off. In that case, I swore right there I was gonna wear this tux every single day for the rest of my life.

He massaged my cock until I was completely hard—not that it took a lot of coaxing. But I was enjoying the hell out of it anyway. He alternated, teasing the underside of the head of my dick with his thumb, stroking the length, and reaching down to cup and fondle my scrotum. Never once did the obsidian gaze leave mine, even when he would lean in to lick and bite my lips, or kiss my face. Tseng finally reached in past the silk and touched my bare flesh, and I shuddered, pushing myself into his hand as I groaned.

"Shhhhh," he hissed, though his eyes gleamed with plenty of mischief of their own. He covered my lips with his index finger.

Can't help it... I'm a groaner. Especially when Tseng does something I like, I wanna make sure does it again. Or, in this case, he doesn't stop.

I glanced at him apologetically for a second before a moment's inspiration caused me to draw his finger it into my mouth and suck on it. I've learned that the best way to get me to shut my mouth is to put something in it. Tseng, who more or less discovered this, highly approves of this rule.

He froze a moment, and shuddered the slightest bit; I watched his eyes roll behind smooth eyelids. His reaction excited me even more, and I sucked on his finger harder, scraping it lightly with my teeth, running my lips over the knuckles, wetting it with my tongue. It was a pretty good impression, if I do say so myself.

I swear I heard Tseng purr like a great cat. Then he snapped his eyes open and met mine with a heated gaze so intense it was practically volcanic. This from a guy who I once thought could start his own Ice Age. I had been so very wrong...

He pulled his finger from my mouth and immediately clamped his lips onto mine again. He caught a small gasp from me, and gave it back with his next breath, and I moaned into his mouth and sucked on his tongue.

His fingers, still curled around my erection, began to move again. I felt his thumb circle around the head, slicking it with the wetness weeping from the tip. It was all too much; the feel of his hand working my cock, his tongue caressing mine, his body, solid and warm pressing against me...I broke the kiss and panted, trying to stand on my own with the gradual weakening in my knees. Tseng reached back and firmly grabbed my ass with his free hand to steady me. I swayed, chewed my bottom lip, and gave him my most pathetic and deprived expression. It worked like a charm. And I wasn't even acting.

Tseng swung me around and parked my ass down on the small, hard bench inside the tiny dressing stall, of which I was suddenly quite thankful for. He let go of my cock and I choked on a whimper when Tseng shot me another reproachful look that reminded me to "turn down the volume." I went back to vigorously chewing on my lip, and I actually thought I'd bitten through it when I watched Tseng slowly peel back my zipper and pull down the elastic of my boxers to hook the band beneath the bottom of my balls. He grinned deliciously at my bare cock twitching against my stomach.

The build-up from there was excruciating: He dipped and licked my stomach, or ran his tongue over my hipbone. Worse yet, he lapped at the skin in the crease of my thigh and I nearly cried real tears as he kept purposely evading my aching erection. I caught his glittering gaze and saw that he was truly enjoying torturing me. "You're evil!" I spitefully hissed. He only grinned wider and waggled his eyebrows. Eyes still full of amusement and trained on me, he stuck out the tip of his tongue and in a slow, agonizing downward arc, bent, and just barely touched the tip of his tongue to the most sensitive part of my cock. I watched, enraptured, while trying to shove my whole fist in my mouth, trying, like never before in my entire life, not to make a sound.

I was marginally successful. That was until Tseng increased the pressure of his tongue, flicking over that same spot again and again until I thought I would go mad. Once again, I completely forgot where I was and moaned as I thudded my head back against the flimsy Formica wall. It sounded like a big kettledrum being hit under water. Tseng immediately stopped; I snapped my head back up and held my breath. And once again, he glared daggers at me.

Surprisingly, Giovanni _didn't_ come to the other side of the dressing room to shout concerns in at us. But Tseng abruptly sat back on his heels, and I still held my breath fearing I'd finally done it—he was going to stop and leave me in this crappy little dressing room with my wang hanging out on fire. He didn't. Instead he searched hastily around the small room, seeming to look for something in particular. He lunged forward to grab something and sat back up holding the perfect solution: the roll of socks.

He leaned forward over me and growled through clenched teeth, "Now, _shut up_ ," and stuffed the roll into my mouth. I choked around the muffler, something between a laugh and my gag reflex kicking in, but when those dark, devilish eyes stared back at me as he plunged his mouth down the whole length of my cock, I had the vague thought that Tseng was a goddamn genius. Stuff a sock in it, huh? Who knew he'd been serious?

Tseng, as always, was amazing: His soft lips and warm mouth, impossibly wet tongue, plunging, kissing, licking, sucking, tonguing...for all I knew right then, I had left the little suit shop and gone to Heaven. He bent lower to nuzzle my balls, sucking on one at a time before returning to take my cock in his mouth. I clenched my hands in his thick hair, loving the sensation of the velvet strands brushing over my lap and stomach. And now and then those smiling, hematite eyes would catch mine and my entire body would seem to ignite. He was just so goddamn...beautiful.

I'm sure I looked like an idiot, half-undressed in a suit that wasn't technically even mine and a roll of socks stuffed in my mouth, but I didn't care. Incongruently, though, it occurred to me that here I was in a dressing room in the back of a public clothing store on a Wednesday getting a blow job from my boss. And it wasn't even lunchtime yet. That, for whatever reason, did it for me.

I thrust forward on reflex, but Tseng steadied my hips in a vice-like grip, his long powerful fingers leaving imprints in my skin. I bit down on the cloth in my mouth so hard I thought my teeth would bend, and cried out—or would have if I could make a sound. Squeezing my eyes shut, I came hard, trembling and emptying myself into his mouth as he seemed to draw it from me. I arched my back and gripped his shoulders, and then everything went away—all sounds, the crappy Muzak, my breathing, all shapes and colors blurred...all of it, gone...save for the sound of the blood thrumming in my eardrums.

As the last wake washed over me, my senses came reeling back, and the very next thing I felt was Tseng releasing me from his lips. I jolted forward tearing the socks out of my mouth, grabbed the back of his neck and kissed him, hard. So many things I wanted to say to him, but why waste the words when a kiss said it all? Was that Hallmark, or what? _Told_ you I was the incurable romantic...

The kiss softened, incidentally as I did, and became a slow, meandering brushing of my lips on his. I stroked his throat with my fingertips and cradled the back of his head, pulling him close to me. I could feel the heat of his own need pushing against me, and I slowly trailed my hand down to his belt to unfasten it. I was more than willing to return the favor. But he grabbed my wrist and stopped my hand and broke the kiss to give me a heated, aroused, but highly amused look. "No, Reno," he whispered, his voice deeper than normal, "that one was for free. For being a good boy today."

Normally I would've given him _at least_ some kind of reproachful glare for such an undercut, but my head was still spinning. Then he jerked me to my feet, pulled up my shorts, fastened my pants and zipped my fly, straightened my vest, smoothed my coat, unlocked the door, and swatted me on the ass. In that order. "Go get 'em, Tiger," he chuckled, and shoved me out the door.

I glanced over my shoulder in time to see him collapse—elegantly, of course—onto the dressing stall bench, looking slightly ragged, but grinning like a maniac at me, nonetheless. Sneaky little bastard. It occurred to me he'd probably been planning this the whole time. Tseng has a way of making all of his meticulously planned and organized ideas look completely spur-of-the-moment. Smooth criminal.

"Hoi, Reno!" he called as I stumbled my way out of the dressing area.

"Huh?" It was the most coherent sentence I could manage under the circumstances.

"Forgot something," he chirped, if he ever would do such a thing. And then a soggy roll of socks beaned me in the face. I narrowed my eyes at him and scowled.

Thanks... _Dad_.

"Ah, Signore Reno, find something you like, eh?"

Was there anything this guy did that wasn't over the top? Talk about a walking cliché.

"Yeah, I'll take this one," I croaked.

"Are you okay, Signore? You look a little...flush."

Oh crap, now I was on the spot. Quick, what's my cover story? 'Uh, I was having hot, sweaty mansex in your dressing room with my boss,' probably wasn't gonna cut it. "It's freaking hot back there, you know," I complained. "That's not very nice to do to a guy trying on wool suits."

He approached me and began doing his little tailor-ish things to me. "Ah, yes, we have dis problem for a while now... You don't a' sp'ose you could get the Shin-Ra to come and take a look at it, no?"

He stared at me expectantly for a moment and I shot him a sarcastic look. "What do I look like, a repairman?"

The tailor's lip curled down condescendingly and he went back to fidgeting. "Well, you did when you walked in here," he muttered. "But now you don't look a' so bad in d' suit. Up with your arms," he ordered, smacking me on the back of my hand. I raised my arms in a cross-like position, and he ran a tape measure from my armpit to my waist. "Are you sure you're okay?" he asked again, almost sounding concerned. "You're burning up. I can feel it through d' suit. You have fever?"

Oh, I had fever, all right. It was a six-foot-two Wutain stud with a sound-effect for a name: ZZZZANG!

"You wan'a something to drink, maybe?"

"Shot of bourbon?" I suggested.

Giovanni drew back and snickered at me through his long, aquiline nose. Then he went back to patting me down like a suspect. Here was a guy who truly enjoyed his job, you could tell. Sticking pins in people seemed just his forte. And he poked me like nobody's fucking business. Excuse me, there, Gio...those are my balls you're stabbing at. Could you be a little gentle? I just got done using them, and I'd like use 'em again eventually, thankyouverymuch in advance...

"Up," he instructed, pointing to a small step stool. I obeyed without any rejoinders as I was nearing my limit of patience with all this. I'm fucking cranky after I have sex, and I wanted a nap.

Then, Giovanni bent before me to pin up the cuff on my pant leg, and I had sudden flashbacks of Tseng kneeling between my knees. I rolled my head back and let out a little moan. "Ah, god..."

"Patience, ' _camello_ ,' almost finished," the tailor reprimanded. "I never met a grown man complain so much about getting a suit." He finished and stood up, appraising me from toe to head. "Eet looks good, no? And, may I suggest a haircut, Signore—"

"No, you may not suggest a haircut," I sassed back.

"Good luck, Gio," said a third voice. "It was difficult enough to get him in here."

Tseng knew I wouldn't let that go—it was my moral obligation to tease back. I rolled my eyes in the direction of Tseng's voice with a snappy remark right on the end of my tongue...and then promptly forgot it when I actually _looked_ at him. There's just not a lot you can say when you're staring at Perfection.

Giovanni and I both turned to see him at the same time, and neither of us said much for a couple seconds. Giovanni was the first to speak, which proved right there he not only _wasn't_ gay, but he wasn't bi, hetero, or anything in between, either. It would be impossible to not have been moved by Tseng at that moment. I am heavily biased, I realize, but...damn.

"Ah, Signore Tseng, you look a' very handsome!" Giovanni left me on my perch for a moment and strided over to Tseng.

"Handsome" was an insult. "Beautiful" was an understatement. There were no words in any language I know to describe him. From the tiny dot in the middle of his forehead to the last thread in his tux, Tseng was the paragon of class. I mean, the man could crawl out of a swamp covered in leeches and still look like a million gil, but I never knew something as simple as a nice suit could make so much of a difference on a person who needed no help to begin with. This was downright overkill.

The suit had a high, stiff collar on the jacket that looked a little like a priest's collar, only totally open in the front. The jacket was button-less, but cut in such a way that emphasized his slim waist and broad shoulders. His vest had this textured accordion look to it, like crepe paper, only even and uniform, and instead of a traditional bowtie like I was being forced to wear, a black silk cravat draped around his neck and a small diamond stud pierced through the center of the silk. It was by no means a conventional tuxedo. But it did the job. And then some. My mouth literally watered.

"You're a' gonna look better than the groom! You look good enough for your _own_ wedding, no?" Giovanni remarked. Tseng smoothed his jacket sleeves, while Giovanni dusted off Tseng's shoulders, and I resisted the urge to run over and slap the tailor's hands off him. He was touching a priceless work of art. _My_ art, dammit.

Tseng gave him a dubious look. "Not likely, Giovanni," he intoned humorlessly.

"Yeah, what the hell?" I barked.

They each looked up at me, and Tseng in particular arched one pompous eyebrow and waited for me to answer. Somehow, that pompousness made him even sexier.

"I thought the idea was to _blend_ ," I remarked. "You stand out like a lighthouse." It was a left-handed compliment, and I hoped he took it as one. _Still_...Giovanni was right. Not only was he gonna look better than the groom, but the bride, too, and the entire wedding party put together, for that matter.

"Doesn't mean he can't look his best, no?" Giovanni offered. Tseng inclined his head just a notch in agreement. "Maybe he look good for someone special, eh, Signore?"

Tseng slowly turned back toward the dressing room without saying another word, but followed me with his gaze before leaving. I think I caught a small, subtle smile playing on his sensuous mouth just before he disappeared.

Like Tseng had to look good for _me_. Please. But even just the unlikely and very small idea that he _wanted_ to look good just for me, made me a little dizzy. I swallowed hard and felt my face burn.

"You still feel not well, no? You not gonna be sick, are you?"

I shook my head. "No," I croaked. "I'm fine." I took a few deep breaths and tried like hell to think of something boring—algebra, chess, Rude, what have you—to calm my heartbeat.

"You feel better when we have d' new suit ready. Clothes make'a the man," he announced, kissing his fingertips and then fanning out all his fingers.

"Yeah? Then make me look like that," I quipped, nodding toward the dressing room Tseng had just passed through.

Giovanni stopped and sized me up with a look like he'd just smelled something funny. "Like a' _that_? Signore _Tseng_?"

"Yeah," I said feeling my grin darken. "You're the tailor, aren't you?"

Giovanni threw his head back and laughed genuinely. "I like you, ' _camello_ ,'" he said. "You very funny." Continuing his task, he grabbed my pant leg cuff and continued to fidget, adding, "But I'm a tailor...not a plastic surgeon."

 _Hmph_. Good thing I wasn't paying.


	2. Chapter 2

Saturday.

The Big Day ™.

Not _my_ "The Big Day," mind you. I'd just finished a 50-hour week at work, and "The Big Day" was seriously cutting into my personal playtime, which already was reason enough to put me in a bad mood. But for the last month, all I'd heard about around the office was "The Big Day"—Shinra's niece being given away to the man of her...tolerance. Actually, I'm thinking it was more the man who would tolerate _her_ , the spoiled little brat that she is. Runs in the Shinra family. Then again, she _is_ the only heir to the Sumo Burger throne, the only restaurant chain I know of that actually tells you in their freaking title that you're bound to be a lard ass if you eat there more than once a year. "Sumo-Size Me!" Who wouldn't want to be a part of _that_ legacy? I suppose for that, even _I_ could learn to like eating out. And I _don't_ mean burgers...

Nope. Nope. I can't even pretend. I'd already found my preferred diet: Wutain take-out, lean and lots of protein. Enjoyed in the privacy of my own home. Or sometimes his. Actually, _usually_ his. It's generally cleaner than mine.

And speaking of that, to make my mood worse, Tseng and I did _not_ get to have our late Friday night get-together, thanks to "The Big Day." We'd been forced to attend the rehearsal dinner the night before—why anyone needed security for a rehearsal dinner, I don't know. It was an absolute friggin' ball watching rich people gorge themselves and drink 'till they passed out in some of the least dignified and most embarrassing ways possible. I was jealous. But by the time that ended late in the evening, it was just about enough time to catch about four hours of sleep, only to wake up and get ready for "The Big Fucking Day."

And today I was being forced against my will to wear a tie. The humanity.

So that left Tseng, Rude and me alone to case out the places the events were being held and routes to get from Point A to Wherever at 7AM on a Saturday morning. It was like planning a freaking royal motorcade. At least I wasn't being forced to wear the tie _yet_.

Rude and I rambled together through the large, empty-for-now ballroom where the reception was gonna be held. Tseng had wandered off alone with the Building Manager to yak about a few details, make threats and what-the-hell-not. The manager seemed much more chatty around Tseng, alone, though. I think Rude and I scared him. Well, actually, I think it was just Rude. He scares a lot of people. Especially when he's not on his leash.

One of us was going to be sticking around the Hall to supervise the catering and entertainment crews, and I was getting that honor. The place was fairly self-sufficient, with its own staff to handle all the festivities, so I was more or less just babysitting and making sure the place didn't blow up before the party arrived. But that also meant I didn't have to go to the ceremony, itself, so I wasn't complaining too much.

"So... _how_ many people are gonna be at this thing, again?" I asked Rude.

"'Bout six-hundred," he said.

I glanced around the huge gilded hall and whistled, hearing the sound bounce all around the empty room. "Three guys for six-hundred guests. Seem fair to you?"

Rude shrugged and chewed on the end of a toothpick. I didn't bother asking Rude why he was chewing on a toothpick at 7AM. "Don't really expect anything to go wrong, I guess."

I stuffed my hands in my front pockets and said conversationally, "So, what if they all, like, turn into zombies and we have to fight 'em off? What's that...two-hundred a piece?"

Rude turned toward me, and without even raising a single eyebrow above those dark shades of his, said, "No... That'll leave me and Tseng to fight off three-hundred a piece. You'll be in the back. Crying."

"Hey, now that only happened _once_ ," I protested. "And I _wasn't_ crying. I had something in my eye..." And people wonder why I wear goggles to work everyday...

Rude snorted derisively and turned away again, crossed his arms over his broad chest and stared at nothing in particular.

"I don't think there are many zombies on the guest list," said Tseng completely out of nowhere. You'd think I'd be used to that by now, but it still rattles me. The guy's like a ninja, I swear. Hell, for all I know, he really _is_ a ninja. He walked up behind me and joined us.

I turned toward him and arched a skeptical eyebrow. "Oh, yeah? When's the last time you've been to a wedding as a bachelor without a date?"

He cut me his best "Don't Go There" glare, but then relaxed again immediately when he realized I was asking a rather straight-forward question and not anything in reference to his own marital status, past, present, or future. "Never," he said, once he seemed to actually consider it.

I snorted once and shook my head. "You'll see... Throw a couple champagne cocktails into a horny bridesmaid, they'll hunt you down like fresh meat."

The edge of Tseng's mouth twitched just the slightest bit. "I do not appreciate being compared to a piece of meat."

"Yeah, yeah, I know," I grinned back, meeting his gaze evenly. "You're a vegetarian. Doesn't make you any less appetizing, though. Er...to _them_ , anyway."

Tseng shot me a warning look behind Rude's back. Otherwise, he didn't bother dignifying my comment with any response. Good thing because I was already chewing on my own tongue to keep from seriously embarrassing the both of us. "So, now what do we do?" I said, immediately changing the subject.

Tseng seemed to seriously reflect on this for a moment before finally announcing, "Now? We go for breakfast. My treat."

Rude and I both turned and gave him curious looks. What were these foreign words we were hearing? Just as I was about to ask where Tseng was and what this man had done to him, Tseng smiled ruefully and added, "It's going to be a _very_ _long_ _day_..."

Well, he had a point. It'd probably be the last time we ate anything all day. I had a feeling we'd definitely need our Wheaties.

I never thought I'd live long enough to see Rude wear a tuxedo. Not that I'd been hoping to, or I'd put it on some kind of wish list of "Things I Hope To See Before I Die." I just hadn't ever thought about it. Rude wearing a tuxedo seemed like two ideas that would never go together. Like a gorilla writing an editorial to the Wall Market Journal... These are things that go on the "Just Not Gonna Happen" list.

So saying, I was fairly impressed when I barged in on Rude inside the small Parlor off the side of the Main Ballroom we were using as a changing area to give him his security headset. He looked, if I do say so myself, pretty spiff.

"Heeeeeey, lookie you," I cawed, stopping just on the other side of the door, as Rude stood in front of a full-length mirror adjusting his tie. "I guess you _can_ polish a turd, after all."

He looked at me briefly through the reflection in the mirror and sighed deeply. "Oh, Scarecrow, if you only had a brain..." he sneered. He left his tie alone and walked over to snatch the headset out of my hands.

I shook my head sadly and looked up at him. "Weak, Rude...real weak. Your comebacks are gettin' lazy."

Rude shrugged out of his jacket again and handed it to me while he began to thread the wire through his vest. "Are you gonna ever gonna change?" he glowered at me.

True enough, I'd been putting off changing into my suit as long as I could. Tseng had gone first and then disappeared to god-only-knows-where before I even got to see him all dressed up. I'd halfway been hoping to corner him in the Parlor on the off chance he was still there, but he was nowhere in sight. That's Mister Ninja for you. At any rate, _I_ was holding off until the last possible minute. It was Saturday, for fuck's sake, and I will put off wearing a suit as long as possible on my would-be day off.

"Aw, doncha love me just the way I am?" I said, flashing Rude a cheeky grin.

"Reno..." Rude growled, yanking his jacket away from me and shoving me in the direction of the changing area. " _Get_ in there before I kick your ass so hard you're using your dick as a snorkel."

I was half-determined to keep a straight face just to call his bluff. But I couldn't. It was just way too damn funny. I burst out laughing.

" _Better_ , asshole?" he snapped. He sounded annoyed, but I could just see the very faint trace of a smirk.

I cackled my way back to the dressing area.

Twenty minutes later I shuffled out of the dressing room again, agitated and muttering to myself like a mental patient, "Damn, damn, stupid goddamn tie..."

" _Jesus_ , this thing makes me wanna hang myself," I swore loudly, pushing my way through the door out into the waiting area by the parlor. I stopped short and looked up, and four pair of eyes—well, two eyes and a pair of shades—stared back at me.

Tseng glanced me over at length; I could practically feel his gaze on me. And he looked amazing. Absolutely friggin' amazing. His tux was neat and crisp, every hair hung exactly in place loose around his shoulders like ebony silk, and he wore it all well. He seemed actually _comfortable_. He looked _better_ than good. He looked...untouchable. A priceless piece of artwork. Immaculate. I couldn't believe he was the same species as me, let alone _my_ lover. I was consciously fighting the urge to just stare at him and drool. It wasn't easy.

And they were both staring at me like I'd just been caught in the sheep pen with my pants down. " _What_?" I said sharply.

"Nice suit," Rude commented. He was silent for a moment and I almost thought he wouldn't say anything else. And then he _didn't_ say anything else. I couldn't tell if he was being serious or taking shots at me.

"What's that supposed to mean?" I said.

"He means it's a nice suit," Tseng stated flatly. "Don't be so defensive, Reno."

"I'm not being defensive," I shot back, "I'm just not used to Rude giving me compliments."

Rude snorted like a bull through his nose and shook his head. "I'm not complimenting _you_ , jackass. I'm complimenting the suit. Your tie's crooked."

"Well, so much for class, you two," Tseng lamented at Rude and I. "Put silk on a goat and it's still a goat. Come on," Tseng said stepping toward me. "We'll get you wired. And get your tie on straight."

"Thanks, _dad_ ," I sassed.

Tseng spun me around by my elbow and pushed me back toward the Parlor. "Rude, go pull the car around," Tseng told him as we left. "I'll meet you out there in a moment. And keep your wire on—we'll test it from here."

Tseng closed the door behind us and guided me over to the vanity mirror, and I had a brief flashback of him standing behind me as he had in the dressing room of the tux shop. Soft smile playing on his lips, he draped his arms over my shoulders and pulled my tie loose _very slowly_. I shivered.

"Tseng, you look..." I breathed. And then I ran out of any other words to say. One word just couldn't sum it up, and I'm certainly no goddamn poet.

"Mmmm," he hummed near my ear. "I was about to say the same about you. You clean up pretty nice."

I sighed and smiled sheepishly, but couldn't hide my blush creeping up my neck. True enough, I managed to not wrinkle the suit or the shirt...in the one day that I'd had it. I was even wearing the socks. I'd combed my hair back and it almost all fit in the ponytail band at the back of my neck. I hadn't realized it'd grown that long already. Usually I hack it off myself before I can't stand it anymore. It occurred to me this was probably the first time Tseng had seen me without my stupid goggles plastered to my forehead and my hair all flopping into my eyes. Well... _dressed_ , anyway. I mean, I don't do _everything_ with those stupid goggles on.

Tseng fiddled with my tie. He attempted tying it just standing behind me. He frowned when that didn't work and turned me around to face him in the same way he'd done before in the shop two days ago. He tried again and this time got it perfectly. "There," he said with a definitive nod, and took a step back to evaluate his work.

He gazed at me, and I squirmed a bit under the heat of his gaze. And then Tseng suddenly frowned again and shook his head. "No..." he said, almost to himself.

I shrank back and suddenly felt very self-conscious. "What?"

Tseng shook his head again. "No. Something's not right," he muttered. As if he was talking about mismatched furniture or something. I briefly looked in the mirror. I was _far_ from perfect. But there's only so much you can do about genetics. Tseng drew the high card on that one. He was good looking enough for both of us. But, as far as I could tell, I had everything in the right place. I mean, I didn't think my pants were on backward or anything.

" _What_?" I pressed him, trying to give him a smile that I'm sure looked as uncomfortable as I felt. "I'm wearing everything the tailor gave me. Even the socks." I lifted my pant leg to show him. "I even showered this week," I grinned.

"That's _not_ what I meant." Tseng studied me thoughtfully for another moment then stepped close again and stared into my eyes. "You look fantastic," he smiled. "But...where's my Reno?"

I blinked hard. _His_ Reno? Wow. This was news to me... When did I personally become Tseng's property? I mean, it's not like Shin-Ra didn't have their company symbol practically branded all over my ass. But now I was _Tseng's_? Wow.

"Uh...right here?" I tried.

"Hmmm." He pulled the bow loose around my neck undoing the meticulous knot he'd taken such great care crafting and threw it on the vanity where it stayed, forgotten. Then he undid the first button on my collar. Then the next button. And, to my further shock, the _next_ button. I swallowed, hard. Was he out of his mind? _Here_? And was this suit was fucking _magic_ , or what? I hadn't even had it on for more than ten minutes and already I was getting undressed! Score!

I watched him prime me with stunned amusement. Tseng even got a little more personal as he untucked the ends of my shirt. And finally, he leaned forward and ran his fingers through my hair to loosen my ponytail some, letting a few of my bangs fall back over my eyes where they usually are. I leaned into his touch, briefly. It still blows me away to this day how gentle his touch can be considering what a hell of a sharp-shooter he is.

" _There_ he is..."

I glanced over in the mirror, and found I looked a little more like my usual self. _Felt_ better too. I looked back at Tseng though, completely puzzled. After all his efforts for the last three years to stuff me into his little perfect Turk mold, _now_ he was finally accepting _me_ , scruffy little mutt that I am? Could it really, really be?

Fffft. Yeah right.

Tseng grinned. "Don't want you looking _too_ polished," he said, and reached over to move a strand of hair out of my eyes with the softest caress. "I need to be able to recognize you later." Tseng traced my brow with his index finger; his touch was like a brand on my skin. And just when I could begin to feel things waking up downtown, he pulled his hand away and added with a playful wink, "So I can find you when the zombies attack. Wouldn't want any of them walking off with you. "

I blinked like was waking from a dream. "The...? Oh...yeah." I gave a weak laugh. "I seriously can't imagine that happening." The implication was ridiculous. It would take an army of real zombies to tear me from Tseng. Who else could I want but him? Who else could even come close?

"Besides..." I said as an afterthought. It was getting a little too intense in here and I needed to break the mood or I was going to go insane. Or tackle him right there. "They wouldn't get very far before starving to death."

He rolled his eyes and gave me a wry smile. "If you only had a brain," he jeered, snatching up the comm. wire and spinning me around. "Lucky for me you don't." Ah, this was much more comfortable. Familiar territory: banter, insults, smart-ass remarks. This I could handle.

I frowned, shrugging one sleeve out of my jacket. "Did you hear Rude say that?" Tseng laid the little earpiece on my shoulder and threaded the wire down through the back of my vest.

"No. Why?" He asked, clipping the small battery pack to the back of my waistband while I slid my arm back into my coat.

"You two need to write some new material. It's gettin' stale."

I stuffed the earpiece in my ear. He gave me an affirmative nod to test. I reached back and flipped the pack on and I heard my mic quietly hum to life. "Yo, Toto. You still in Kansas, or what?"

Rude grunted in my ear. "Not to burst your bubble, but Kansas isn't a real place."

" _Thank_ god."

"I'm in front. Dorothy there with you?"

I grinned wickedly over at Tseng. "Yeah, Dorothy's here. He's on his way."

Tseng aimed a vehement glare at me upon hearing his new designated codename for the day. Oh, it was rich. And I wasn't even the one to come up with it this time. This ran right up there with the time we all gave each other names from those "suit-mation" monster movies. Tseng was "Jet Jaguar" and Rude was, of course, "Godzilla." Of course, I would get "Mothra." Something about flapping around and always getting in the way.

Or the time Tseng was tagged as "Papa Smurf." Rude was "Gargamel." Of course, I got picked as "Smurfette." Our combined knowledge of the Smurfs in retrospect was frightening...

And, come to think of it, "Scarecrow" was probably one of the more flattering codenames I've had so far. At least I wasn't the _girl_ this time.

I waved dismissively at "Dorothy" and turned away from his laser-like glare attempting to saw me in half. I choked back a laugh. "Try not to kill anyone else in the church when you two burst into flames walking over the threshold," I remarked.

"We'll save you a seat in Hell," Rude dryly informed me.

"No need. I have reservations," I said. "Out." I switched the battery pack back off and I looked over at Tseng. He rolled his eyes cynically at me before heading for the door.

"'Dorothy,'" he groaned. "Why do _I_ have to be 'Dorothy?'"

"You don't _have_ to," I said. "You _get_ to." I flashed him a wide, wolfish grin. "Besides, Dorothy was a babe. And you're the best-looking thing this side of the rainbow."

He stopped with his hand on the doorknob and looked at me with a sardonic expression. "You talk a lot for not having any brains."

I shrugged. "So do a lot of people. Maybe I'll run for office."

Tseng snorted derisively and then turned the doorknob, opening it a crack. Geeze, I had actually meant to compliment him there. Tried to be romantic, at least a little, and instead came out sounding like a dork. Good ol' me. "Wait!" I said, and on impulse, quickly closed the gap between us, pushed the door shut again and, before I realized it, I'd leaned in and captured his mouth with mine. God, who the hell did I think I was? El Reno Suave? Well, at least I was making my point now.

I could tell he was surprised by my action, but he put up no resistance, parting his lips at once and allowing me to stroke his tongue with mine. It was heated kiss, but over too quick. With colossal effort, we tore away from one another. "Shit... I'm sorry. I don't know what the hell I was thinking," I panted.

"Save it," he said, lighting his index finger over my lips. "This gods-forsaken circus has to end sometime. And I'll be damned if I leave here tonight without you."

I gaped, gulped, and nodded, giving myself a moment to catch my breath before speaking again. And suddenly, I was mentally toasting to the bride and groom and entire wedding party, whoever the fuck they were, and breaking glasses yelling "Mazal tov!" and whatever I had to do, just as long as it got me the hell out of here...

Yeah, in my dreams. Tseng was right—it was gonna be a very long day. It wasn't even noon yet.

"Take care of Toto," I smiled. "And don't have too much fun without me."

Tseng leaned over, pressing nearly the full length of his body against mine just briefly. "Scarecrow, I'll miss you the most," he growled.

Damn, I never knew the Wizard of Oz could sound so naughty.

That left me alone at the reception hall to "supervise."

"Supervising" was "fun" in that I didn't have to "do" much of "anything." At least not for the first hour or so. Then the catering crew started to trickle in, and I got to put on my Asshole Security Guard face. The rest of the building was on lockdown, and the only unlocked entrance in the building was the kitchen entrance. Most people were cooperative while I checked ID's and invitations, patted them over for any unnecessary implements, checked supplies, etcetera. You never know what could be hiding in that soufflé, after all.

But there's always at least one person in every crowd who has to be a complete prick. The One Guy who lacks any freaking sense to actually try and go head-to-head with a Turk. I used to _be_ that guy. But now that I _am_ a Turk, I got no freaking patience for these asshats.

Just so happens this one caught me in a brief lull, leaning outside still guarding my post—more or less—while trying to suck down one cigarette before anyone noticed. And I'd just lit the damn thing, too. It always figures, don't it?

He also happened to walk around the corner I wasn't really watching as closely as the direction everyone else had so far come around. I noticed him just as he was about to walk right through the access door. "Whoa—" I flung my cigarette away immediately and jogged over to cut him off. He stepped back and blinked at me in surprise. "My bad. That's what I get for trying to sneak away," I said with a sheepish grin. "You got your invitation?"

 _Everyone_ had invitations to this thing, including the staff. It was Heidegger's brilliant idea to make sure nobody showed up that wasn't supposed to, and it cut out the need for a guest list. A guest list that would've included six hundred some odd guests, plus another hundred or so for working crew would've been a list a mile long...so actually, it really was one of Heidegger's better ideas. Unfortunately, it was also his idea to make crew invitations _off_ -white while the bride had picked out white invitations for the party guests. Yeah, real freaking easy to tell which was which. But so long as it said their name and stated what the heck they were doing there, it didn't really matter what color the invitations were.

"Who da heck are _you_?" he asked in a thick, city accent. He stood about a half-a-foot shorter than me, definitely wider than me, and sported a haircut that looked like a well-groomed Chia pet.

"Security."

"You're kiddin'. _You're_ Security." He sized me up and smirked arrogantly at me—an expression he did so well, he probably practiced it in front of a mirror.

I was a little surprised by his cheeky off-the-cuff remark. It caught me off guard, and I paused a moment and felt my own grin darken. "Finest you can rent," I said, spreading the sarcasm on real thick. Okay, take it easy, Reno...be cool. He's just a clueless idiot. One more time I asked him: "Invitation?"

"You got any credentials?"

 _Credentials_? Was he for _serious_? Oh, for crying out loud. Did he really think I'd be standing here at the back door of a kitchen on a goddamn Saturday asking to see invitations in my spare time if I wasn't supposed to be here? I glared into his beady little black eyes, and by now I know there wasn't a trace of a smile anywhere near me. I gave him a patented look that I've seen more often than I care to remember, one that I'd seen so many times on Tseng I knew how to imitate it perfectly: The Look. Tseng would've had to charge me royalties if he'd seen it. But it didn't seem to faze Mr. Chia much. Somehow I had the feeling that if it were Tseng or Rude standing here, this jackass wouldn't be giving _them_ as hard a time. It's discrimination, I tell you. People just refuse to take a redhead seriously.

Fine. I had credentials. If he wanted to see them, I was willing to humor him.

I swept aside my blazer allowing him to see my special Shin-Ra security badge clipped to the lining of my coat...hanging right above Glenda, my 9 millimeter Glock, nestled and napping comfortably inside her holster. His weedy black eyebrows bounced up for a brief moment. _Yeah, that's right, pal. I do mean business. At least once in a while._

Now. Again. "Do you have your invitation?" I repeated very clearly so that he could understand.

"Invitation? What's that?"

It took every ounce of control I had not to wake Glenda up and introduce her to Chia-head, here. "It's a piece of paper with some stuff written on it that _invites_ you to a function, hence the name _invitation_ —"

"Oh, that ticket thing?"

I met his glare evenly. "Yeah, the ticket thing."

He shrugged carelessly. "I didn't read it. What do I need that for?"

"To get in," I answered testily.

"So you're not gonna let me in 'cause I don't got it?"

"I'm not letting you in until you can show me proof of who you are," I stated. "Got ID?"

It was entirely likely that someone could have lost their invitation—or "ticket thing"—or forgotten it, so we did actually have a list. But it wasn't with me—Heidegger had the guest list and I'd have to call it in. Talking to Heidegger is always on the bottom of my list of "Things I Love To Do", right between barium enemas and electric shock therapy. But if I had to, I had to. And I would be extra sure to make it seem as inconvenient to Chia-head as possible.

"I don't carry my I.D with me. Look, I'm the head chef for the banquet, Emilio LeGrass." He looked at me expectantly like that was supposed to mean something. "I got my own TV show? You know... ' _Bam_?'"

I stared back at him indifferently, even though I suddenly _did_ recognize him, now. This turkey has the most annoying show on television. His audience is full of fat, middle aged women who find it exciting when someone drops a goddamn garlic clove in a pot and screams some kinda catchphrase. I decided a while ago that he had made my list of People I'd Like To Punch In The Face If I Ever Met Them. And now he was right here. Must be my goddamn lucky day.

But, even though punching him wasn't an option right now, I still had my orders. No one gets in without ID of _some_ kind. And if he wasn't gonna play by the rules, I decided he wasn't gonna get to play. "Look, I can't let you in unless you can give me some kind of identification. Telling me you have your own TV show ain't good enough. If I had to identify everyone at this wedding by what TV show they've been on, I'd be looking at the TV Guide right now as a checklist. I don't work for People fucking Magazine, I'm a Turk."

"What the hell's a _Turk_?" he asked, curling his lip in contempt at the last word.

"Shin-Ra Security," I corrected myself.

"Well, look. Shin-Ra hired me himself for this. Now I'm s'posed to be in there gettin' ready to feed everybody. You wanna keep him waitin,' Mister Security Guard/ Turk/Whatever the Hell You Are, _sir_?"

I gave him a mockingly sincere smile at his condescending tone. "That's not my problem. If you're so concerned, why don't you call him and have him come down here and vouch for you." I also had President Shin-Ra's phone number programmed for speed-dial on my cell phone—not that I ever called him or used it. And not like I was gonna let 'Bam-Bam' here know it, either. I just found it personally satisfying that his name-dropping wasn't worth shit to me.

'Bam-Bam' blew out an agitated breath, paced a semi-circle while he dragged his hand through his sculpted hair, and then returned to his spot to glare daggers at me. "Look, can't ya just get one of the other chefs to come out here and vouch for me?"

"I'm sorry, sir, I can't do that," I said. At the same time, he stepped forward closer to me, a lot closer than I was comfortable with, waving his hand toward the entrance. I raised my hand to chest level to block him on reflex, and I have no idea if he tripped, or if he really meant to push into me, or maybe I even stepped forward at the same time he did, but either way I ended up pushing him bodily away from me. Not hard, and not far, and certainly not enough to hurt him, but apparently hard enough to shake him up mentally a little. Not that he wasn't already a little mental to begin with.

I wasn't really looking closely as to how it appeared there, but I was sure I'd felt something fall out of his blazer when I pushed him. Whatever that had been was now in his hand: A nice, gleaming wooden-handled knife. It had a short handle and a shorter blade—all right, fine, it was only a little paring knife. But it was still a knife, and he was waving it around a little too carelessly as he yelled at me. "How dare you threaten me!" he hollered.

"I'm not threatening you," I said sternly, keeping my cool but assuming a more defensive position. "But I think you better hand over that knife."

"What? This? It's one of my cooking knives, what about it? Every good cook has their own set they use and _only_ use. You obviously don't know nothing about being a chef."

"I _said_ give me the knife."

He snorted and shot me a dark look. "You can't be serious."

I looked back at him squarely, opening my blazer a bit to feel for Glenda. "You obviously don't know nothing about being a Turk. I'm _very_ serious."

Now, I realize there are two sides to every story. And I'm sure what he was seeing was a lot different that what I was seeing. What _I_ saw him do was brandish the little knife at me. Whether he meant it as a taunt, or actually meant to threaten me, I don't know. Maybe he wasn't really doing either, and I was just choosing to see what I wanted—people aren't generally _that_ stupid. But a Turk never takes chances, and I didn't like him enough to give him the benefit of the doubt.

I have an advantage: I'm faster and a lot more athletic than I seem. I may look like a goofball, but occasionally I really know what I'm doing. So using my advantage, I gave a quick roundhouse kick and slammed my heel into his wrist, knocking the little knife out of his hand. It wasn't meant to hurt him, just surprise him a little and get his attention—and get that knife out of his hand. He shrieked, grabbed his arm, and by the time he looked back at me, I had Glenda awake and pointed at his forehead. The safety was still on; I was fairly sure this guy didn't know how to fight his way out of a wet paper bag, let alone go up against me. I just wanted to show him how I would sincerely appreciate him taking the fuck off. "Get lost," I snarled.

His dark look turned about three shades of white. Slowly, he backed away, his lips working to make words his throat couldn't. Eventually, he turned and ran. "You'll hear from my lawyer about this!" he shouted around the corner.

"Yeah, yeah," I muttered to myself, putting Glenda back to bed. I walked over and bent to pick up the little knife, stashing it safely in my outer blazer pocket. When I looked up again, someone else was walking toward the door, blinking at me like he'd just seen a ghost.

I shrugged at him. "No ticket," I grumbled.

The new guy didn't even wait for me to ask. He fumbled around briefly and produced his invitation so fast, I barely saw him move. I wondered how much of that little action scene he'd witnessed a moment ago, but if his speed was any indication, he'd seen enough. I ambled back to my post. "Sorry you had to see that," I said, taking the invitation from him. "All in a day's work, you know?" I gave him an easy shrug as I read the card out loud. "Alton Black?"

He nodded so vigorously I thought his glasses would go flying off his head. Again, without even being asked, he whipped his ID out for me to look at. I compared the two, and they matched. I looked back at the invitation. "Says here you're the sous-chef."

"Oh," he said with a delighted little smile. "You pronounced it right."

I looked at him and slumped. "What, do I look like a total idiot? I watch Iron Chef."

"Oh, sorry... It's just most people call it 'soos' when they read it... You know, like the Doctor. Doctor...Seuss... Er." He scratched his head nervously.

I really couldn't help but smile. Just a little. The guy was a complete nerd-and-a-half, but something about his delivery was entertaining. And at least he was being polite to me. Hell, compared to the last guy, I was ready to make him my best friend. But, since that position was already filled, I had to give him another option. "Yeah, 'sous'—like what that guy is gonna do to me," I gestured in the direction the other guy had ran off in. "So sous-chef. That's like second in command, right?"

He shrugged. "Yeah, something like that."

"So you know what you're doing."

"I like to think so," he smirked.

I studied him for a second trying to size him up in the two whole minutes I'd known him. Arrogant, too. But not nasty about it. Sounded like my kinda guy.

I quickly reached back into my blazer, and I saw his eyes grow round with alarm. I snorted and shook my head easily, slowing my motion a bit so as to show him I wasn't reaching for my gun. I grabbed a pen in the liner pocket of my tux coat and pulled it out instead, and he seemed pretty relieved by that.

Looking down at the invitation, I crossed out the title of 'Sous-Chef' for a Mr. Alton Black and scribbled in my neatest handwriting (which admittedly still looks like hell), 'Head Chef.' "Well, congratulations," I said, handing him back his invitation. "You're gettin' a promotion."

He took the invitation and looked at it, and then looked back at me like I'd just handed him a solid gold brick. "What? You can't...you can't _do_ that. I mean, can you? I mean...he was supposed to...I..." He stammered, pointing to the invitation, then the direction 'Bam Bam' had disappeared to, then back at himself.

"Well, he blew it, didn't he? Besides, you can't tell me you _wanted_ to work with him?"

"Well...no. He was an ass," he said with such candid honesty and conviction I nearly laughed out loud. "Nobody liked him. But he _was_ the guy they hired for the job."

"Yeah, ' _was'_ being the key word. But he ain't here now, and someone has to feed six-hundred people."

"Well, yeah. But _still_... Head Chef is like the captain. You don't just shoot the captain and step up to take the wheel. That's like... _mutiny_." He was animated, but aloof at the same time. Like he was delivering lines from a comic act. He leaned in a bit and said as kind of an aside, "I just finished reading 'Moby Dick' for the first time."

I liked his analogy; this guy was quickly growing on me. "Well, sometimes the _captain's_ a dick and deserves to be shot."

He considered this for a second and nodded thoughtfully. "True. Still. Shouldn't we have permission or something?"

"I _am_ the permission. Look, how hard can it be?" I said, with a dramatic shrug. "You tell some people to stick some shit in a pot and they cook it. Right?"

He stopped and gave me a knowing look over his black-framed glasses, and a slow, ironic smirk spread across his mouth. "Yeah, kinda like how checking invitations is all you have to do to be a Turk."

I outright grinned at that. This guy was good. He paid attention and he was a smart cat. Hell, maybe I'll give Rude the boot and I make him my best friend anyway. At least I'd be likely to get a good meal or two out of it. "Do you want the job or not?"

He shrugged breezily. "Sure."

"Do you know what's on the menu?"

"Kobe Beef and Lobster Tail," he happily announced.

I paused a second. "Kobe beef... Yo, isn't that the one where they massage the cow and feed it beer its whole life or something?"

"That'd be the one," he said with a slow nod, smirk still firmly in place. "Three-hundred gil a pound."

"Fuck me..." I muttered incredulous, shaking my head. Did I mention five million gil for this whole wedding? I bet at least a third of that was just going to buy food, for chrissakes. "Wouldn't mind coming back as that cow. I could think of worse ways to live before being executed. What's that taste like, anyway?"

"Beef," he said simply. "It tastes like...beef. _Good_ beef. But...beef."

I snickered and shook my head. Damn the rich. They'll buy anything. "Well, you know how to cook it?"

"Any self-respecting ' _head chef'_ would," he said, mocking his new title.

"Well, then, get in there and start cooking, Chef Black. That's an order. You got six-hundred people on their way soon and you better be ready."

His smile widened into a full grin. "Well, then, yes _sir_ ," he said with a small salute. "You won't catch _me_ arguing with a Turk."

I grinned back. "You're all right, man," I said. " _You_ should have your own TV show. You'd be much more fun to watch than 'Bam-Bam' back there."

"Actually, I do," he said proudly. "It's on after Mister, um...'Bam.'"

I chuckled at his response. He _was_ an arrogant bastard, but likable as all fuck. "I'll be sure to look for it," I nodded, motioning him toward the door. He was about to walk past me when I stopped him again with my hand over his chest. I realized I hadn't searched him. " _You_ don't have any knives on you, do you?"

He shook his head. "A knife is a knife, for the most part, and a decently stocked kitchen won't carry anything that's gonna be cheap."

I reached into my coat again and pulled out the little paring knife, handing him the wooden handle. "Here, have this. Souvenir."

He looked down and took it by the handle. "You don't want it?"

"I'm not really the kinda guy who's gonna cut roses out of my radishes, you know? Take it back to your car. And _keep_ it there. At least until you're outta here."

He turned back and genuinely smiled at me, thanking me before heading back to the parking lot. When he returned, I patted him down, just to be on the safe side—a real bonding experience for us—and let him on by with a final handshake. "Good luck, Chef Black."

"I'll save you a doggie bag if there's anything left," he nodded as he passed me. There goes my kind of jackass.

He wasn't out of my sight for two minutes when my cell phone rang. I pulled it out and looked at the display. It was Tseng. We were way too far out of range for our headsets. I flipped it open. "Yo."

"What in blazes is happening over there?" he said, his voice deep and unemotional.

"Whaddya mean?" I asked, cautiously.

"I got word from above that TV's Favorite Chef is calling and threatening legal action on Shin-Ra. Claims a red-headed security guard with a ponytail assaulted him."

Aw, crap. He had me there. I sighed gustily into my phone. Damn, the guy worked fast. "He didn't have an invitation," I told him.

"He's saying you pushed him and then broke his wrist."

"Oh, that is _bullshit_ ," I protested. "I kicked his arm. Hardly hard enough to do anything."

There was a very patient, very controlled sigh on the other end. I could just see the weary expression on Tseng's face when I heard it, and I could practically hear his eyes rolling when he asked, " _Why_ did you kick his arm?"

"He was being a jerk."

"And so you kicked him because of that."

"No, he was threatening me with...er...a potentially lethal weapon..." I trailed off at the last part so that I was just mumbling by the end of it.

"A _what_?"

"Okay, fine. It was a paring knife," I groused.

Pause. "A paring knife," Tseng repeated flatly. "He threatened you. With a paring knife."

I was losing this quick and the whole incident was looking just stupider and stupider, even in my own head. It wasn't even that long ago and I was already questioning every detail now, wondering if I'd really done the right thing or what. I needed a really good defense here. "Look, you told me not to let any staff in here without I.D. I take that to mean that if God, Himself showed up here, He better be able to show me proof a' that. This jackass didn't have an invitation, and he didn't have ID on him, otherwise I would've called for clearance, and he got hostile when I insisted on it.

"As for the paring knife, yeah, it wasn't that big a threat. But if he'd had a toothpick and was waving it at me like that, I'd'a done the same thing. He refused to give it up, and I wasn't gonna let him in here with six-hundred people—a third of 'em who own _their own goddamn countries_ —acting like a fuckin' maniac. Now, you left me in charge here to secure the place, and I think I did just that. So are you gonna bust my balls for doing my job, or what?"

Silence. Then more silence. And just for a change, even _more_ silence. I wish to god I could've seen the wheels cranking in his head, because at least it would've given me something nice to look while I stood there waiting. Finally, he spoke, his tone controlled and totally even, and just so damn unreadable.

"We will review the security surveillance tapes later. Until then...I trust your judgment. You acted according to code and to the best of your ability—"

I didn't even hear the end of it before I was quietly pumping my fist in a little victory dance.

"—and I support your decision completely." There was another pause, but when he spoke again, I could actually hear the smirk in his voice. "Good boy."

I grinned so wide I thought the two ends of my smile would wrap around my head. "See? I _can_ be responsible."

"Yes," he intoned. "Congratulations, Scarecrow. You had a brain all along. _Dorothy_ out."

I cackled as I snapped my phone shut and slid it back in my pocket. There was that brief period when I really thought Tseng was gonna smack me down there—you just never know with him, sometimes. Our personal relationship is a lot different than our work relationship, and he still gives me plenty of hell when I deserve it. But maybe this time I really did sound like I knew what I'd been doing, and either way, I wasn't gonna complain about his commendation.

I mean, would you wanna argue with a man named Dorothy?

The next call I got was from Rude telling me the motorcade was on its way. _Finally_. They were already two hours behind from when the ceremony was supposed to have ended, and the only reason I hadn't panicked with worry and called out every freaking Soldier at my disposal and chewed off all my fingernails down to the bone was that Tseng had called me at one point to, very, very briefly, tell me they were delayed. That's my Tseng...a goddamn gift for understatement. As far as why they were delayed, I still didn't know. He was on the phone long enough to tell me they were late but that everything was back in order. Whatever that meant.

Meanwhile, I was having to deflect dirty looks from the staff. That was until I was able to remind a few of them they were getting paid by the hour, just like I was. That shut most of 'em up. Then the band decided to do a practice session, and while they definitely weren't gonna end up in my CD collection any time soon, they at least gave everyone a distraction.

I was fucking happy as hell to be able to announce that the party was on its way, though. God, if I had to hear another cover of "Y.M.C.A." I was gonna kill myself. Why the hell that always gets played at weddings, I'll never know.

For the reception, the ushers checked invitations. I only had to stand by and wave everyone through the big giant walk-through security detector that had been decorated to look like a fucking garden trellis. I guess this was someone's great idea of "class."

Rude—Mister tall, dark and sunglassed—was right at the front of the procession for the highest of guests of honor, and I couldn't help think how photogenic he was getting to be with all the photos the paparazzi were managing to snap of him. I caught his gaze as he escorted everyone in and gave him an acknowledging nod. His mouth compressed in a tight line, he allowed me just briefly to see his eyes rolling in annoyance over the rim of his glasses, and he shook his head just slightly in response. I tried to signal to him for more info, but he just shook his head again and mouthed the words, "Later." Whatever it was, Rude wasn't happy. Or at the very least, just really, really annoyed, which, believe it or not, isn't a state that's easy to get Rude into. Usually only I get that honor.

It took us a good forty-five minutes to see everyone in after the V.I.P's had been introduced, which was surprisingly quick for six-hundred people. Say what you will about the Turks, but we do have our moments. I still hadn't seen Tseng, but knew he was probably with the bridal party, itself. And then, sure enough, the bridal party was ushered in, announced, and herded into the main dining hall, and right at the rear of it all, there he was.

Tseng walked in looking like a prince. Standing for a moment in the white marble entryway in front of the gilded doors and bathed in the soft light of the crystal chandelier overhead, he actually appeared bigger than life. Like a superstar that just walked right off a movie screen. I felt my throat catch and my heart palpitate, and I actually had to remind myself to calm down, not get too excited. I _know_ him, for crying out loud—stop acting like a drooling fangirl. But that was just it—I _knew_ him. Personally. _Intimately_. Knew him in a way that no one else here did, and that out of all these hundreds of people here, somehow, some reason, he found _me_ special.

Breathe, Reno. Breathe...

He stood in the opening long enough to give a cursory glance around the entrance, then turned and motioned over his shoulder to the lesser security "ushers" to shut the doors once everyone had cleared the area. He glanced over in my direction and his eyes caught mine. It took me a heartbeat or two before I realized he was watching me back. I shook myself out of it and blinked, and I met his gaze again and gave him and an embarrassed little smirk.

I felt his eyes linger over me a moment, appraising me, and then he gave me a reserved little half-smile, nodding his head once in my direction. I felt my face grow hot. Sometimes I really hate having red hair.

One more glance around, and then Tseng strolled purposefully over to me and only spoke when he stopped in a low tone directly in front of me.

"Everything all right, here?" he asked.

"You're late," I mentioned.

Tseng took a quick breath to respond and then paused a moment anyway, his smirk widening just the slightest bit. "The ceremony was delayed," he said.

"Yeah, I _got_ that. What happened? Groom get cold feet?"

"No," he said. "Just a small... _situation_."

I felt my grin slip. "Oh?" I leaned in a degree closer. "Anything serious."

Tseng shook his head. "Just a small altercation in the wedding party." Pausing another beat or two, he bit his lower lip and looked right on the verge of a real smile. "Cain and Able got into a bit of a row," he said.

I stared blankly at him for a moment before what he said finally sank in. Then I drew back like I'd touched something hot. "You're shittin' me."

The smoky eyes twinkled with amusement. He shook his head. "No, I am not. Seems daddy took one look at his little girl and changed his mind. He decided he _was_ going to give her away—only he didn't tell anyone else this until they were all lined up to march down the aisle. Once he showed up, The Old Man declined to give up his position, and so his Dear Brother tried to barter his way into it. Of course, when _that_ didn't work, well..."

I was too stunned to laugh. "What'd you do?"

"Rude and I managed to pull everyone back into the bride's dressing room before they ended up causing _too_ much of a scene. And then Cain and Able proceeded to argue—over _money_ , of all things—for another fifteen minutes before the first punch was thrown. Rude and I had to step in and keep them separated."

My jaw unhinged. I just couldn't picture it: two men, both of 'em old enough to be on social security (not that they'd ever needed it), swapping blows with each other. With Tseng and Rude trying to break up the fray, of all things. "Oh my god. I would've paid _real_ money to see that. _Please_ tell me it wasn't as fun as it sounds," I said, a notch of desperation creeping into my tone.

A self-controlled but genuine smile bloomed on his lips. "I could...but it'd be a lie."

"Man you guys get to have _all_ the fun," I muttered in mock injury.

"Well, we thought of you," he said in mock sincerity.

I cut him a wry look, then asked, "So, what ended up happening?"

"Well, naturally the bride was upset over all this and she cried... No. She _wailed_. The bridesmaids tore her away so they could re-do her makeup, and the boys calmed down after she left. So they decided to split the cost of the whole thing: Brother-Dear wrote The Old Man a check right there for two-point-five mil, and they _both_ walked her down the aisle."

Still stunned, I just shook my head in disbelief. That whole scene just made the top of my list of "Things I Hope To See Before I Die," and got checked off before I'd even known it happened. I couldn't believe I'd missed it. This was gonna be one of those things I regret on my deathbed, I just knew it.

"Things should be pretty quiet for a bit since they're just about to start serving dinner. Where's Rude?"

I motioned my head the direction I last saw him heading, and Tseng nodded.

"Catch you in a bit," he said touching me briefly on the sleeve, and began walking off in the opposite direction.

"Hey, who won the fight?" I blurted out after him.

Tseng stopped just a handful of paces away and spun around slowly on his heel. He took one more step back closer to me. "Well, technically, everyone won, didn't they?" he said with his tongue firmly in cheek.

"Bull- _shit_. You know what I mean. Someone threw the first punch, and someone went down first. Who was it?"

He paused a moment and slid his hands smoothly into his pockets, and considered his answer. "Who do you think won?" he finally asked, amused eyes sparkling like wildfire.

I thought about it for a second and met him with the same look. "I bet you twenty gil the Old Man went down like an avalanche," I grinned. "He's too used to having us around to cover his ass."

Not choosing to answer verbally, Tseng pulled his hand out of his pocket. He glanced down at a single gil coin in his palm, rolled it onto the back of his thumb, and flicked it at me. It made a perfect gold arc in the air, flipping end over end, and landed smack in the middle of my hand.

Still barely noticeable smile lighting on his mouth, Tseng winked at me and slowly licked his lips. "I owe you the rest later," he murmured.

Smiling wide enough to crack my face in two, I gave him a lazy salute and pocketed the coin as he ambled away.

Score one for the carrot top...

 _Later..._

"Any idea why I just had to turn down five date offers— _from other men_?" Rude asked me. He came up slow and calm and completely cool, then turned and stood next to me the same direction I was with his hands clasped casually behind his back, facing the swarm of partygoers in the center of the ballroom as we watched the cake cutting ceremony.

I scratched my head thoughtfully. "Oh yeah? That's interesting. You think maybe for the same reason I just spent the last forty-five minutes trying to shake off a woman old enough to be my grandma?"

"Mmm. Could be." Rude paused a moment and rocked back on his heels once. Still without turning to look at me, he finally said, "You've been telling everyone I'm gay, haven't you?"

"Just anyone who asks," I admitted easily. "You told her I was a virgin, didn't you?"

"Something like that..."

For another moment there was an understated silence between us, and then finally, "Good one, asshole."

"Touché," I commended. "That's one way to keep off the zombies."

Rude grunted in agreement.

Rude and I continued to stand side-by-side for a moment longer when I caught Tseng breeze by out of the corner of my eye. That left me to question, "I wonder how Tseng's handlin' it?"

"Better than either of us," Rude remarked.

Now, I know for a fact that trying to hold on to Tseng is like trying to hold on to a Teflon eel, but he _had_ to be getting his share of proposals. I'd've been shocked as hell if they didn't double the ones Rude and I had had so far put together. For that I actually had to turn and ask Rude, "Why d'you say that?"

I saw a very small, but very characteristic smirk curl at the corner of Rude's mouth. "I've been telling everyone he's a woman."

I choked. The answer had caught me so by surprise, I couldn't even laugh. I coughed even harder when Rude amended, "Well...not a woman _yet_. One more operation."

And just like that, Rude, the man with the stealth sense of humor, walked away to leave me nearly turning blue from asphyxiation. That's why I love him. Of course, that left me open for the next target, but not my secret eighty-year-old admirer. This one was much younger and about as beautiful as you can get and still be from this planet, but a lot scarier in my opinion. A figure decked in a so-expensive-it-should-be-in-a-museum ivory tuxedo and carrying a champagne flute approached me calmly as I was just learning how it is lungs work again. I sobered immediately and snapped to attention.

"As you were, Reno," Rufus Shinra said, his voice pretty much the amused boredom you'd expect from one who is heir to the guy who practically invented modern electricity. He stood directly in front of me forcing my gaze on him, and while he was about six inches shorter than me, he seemed to fill the whole goddamn room, and I knew I was trapped. I just couldn't look anywhere else. He was striking and beautiful and I was immediately uncomfortable. Christ, he was only sixteen.

He leaned in toward me conspiratorially. "What's this I hear about Mr. Rude being gay, you being a virgin, and Mr. Tseng being a...what was it? A transsexual?"

I coughed again, then cleared my throat at the accusation. "Word gets around fast," I commented.

Rufus Shinra shifted his weight and folded one arm stylishly across his chest. "Yes, it certainly does," he mused as I noted the predatory little smirk curling at his lips. For a moment, I really had to wonder if the guy wore lip-gloss. "Explain."

I felt my face burn, caught as we were in our dumb little game. "It's just a joke," I told him. "Just something to pass the time... To keep the zombies away."

One pale eyebrow arched high on his smooth forehead. "Zombies?"

Looking over his shoulder, I knew I'd see exactly the example I needed to explain myself close by. Rufus Shinra never has a shortage of fans swooning around him, be it female, or male, or other. I caught his ice-blue gaze and motioned subtly toward a flock of such fans at a nearby table, all gathered together in a tight little herd to watch him. Rufus slowly turned and looked over his shoulder at the flock, pressing and rolling the rim of his champagne flute teasingly against his bottom lip. "Zombies," I illustrated. "Always after fresh meat."

"Oh yes, I see, Reno. Very clever." He turned back to me once more and gave me another long glance. "So. Is it working?"

I smiled uneasily. "Mostly."

He gave me another cunningly amused look. "Really? People are actually buying that _you're_ a virgin?" he said lowly, and I forced myself to remain calm and in my position.

"I guess it's just my innocent face," I said with a flashy grin. I was not gonna let this kid affect me, goddammit. At least, I wasn't gonna show it.

Rufus Shinra blinked slowly and studied me a moment through long eyelashes. Then for a second, I thought I actually detected a hint of disappointment. He turned back and gazed briefly over his shoulder at my partner with a slightly wistful look. "Hn. So...I guess that means Rude isn't gay. Pity."

I declined to comment at that, though I really had to fight not give him a stare with my eyes bugging out and question marks visibly popping up over my head. Rufus with a thing for Rude...just the idea was enough to creep the crap out of me. In fact, it was so bizarre it wasn't even really funny. I cleared my throat and shuffled my feet a bit.

Rufus noticed me out of the corner of his gaze and locked his cool eyes on to mine again. He sized me up once more, and even though I stood firm in my usual casual, cocky self, I was really dying for him to just go away now and find some other prey elsewhere to entertain him.

"So, Reno..." he mused, circling to stand by my side as he surveyed the party next to me, "maybe you could start a rumor about me as well, hmm?" He stared at the gaggle of his groupies on the other side of the room with disdain, and I suddenly felt like my skin was crawling with a million bugs just having him stand this close to me.

"What, uh... whaddya have in mind?" I offered in a totally non-committed tone despite my unease. I didn't have the balls to tell him I didn't think I was clever enough to invent a rumor about Rufus Shinra that hadn't already been told somewhere.

He shrugged airily. "I dunno. Tell them... Tell them I'm a eunuch."

This time I did cough. I didn't overdo it, but it was pretty freaking difficult not to. Rufus Shinra, a eunuch…good one. He snapped his attention back over to me and blinked at me like he was going to eat me alive. "Something funny?"

"Sir, with all do respect," I said in sort of a half-choke/half-laugh, "I don't think anyone would believe me." If only the guy with the olive tray would come by so I could just stick a toothpick through my tongue now, thanks...

He stood there stone-faced and still for a moment, and then suddenly he smirked like someone had flipped a switch in him. "Any more than anyone would buy that you're a virgin?"

I smiled uncomfortably and shook my head. There was just no graceful way to back out of this trap. Fortunately, I didn't have to, though. He finally let me off the hook. "That's all right, Reno. I can see you're already busy enough. Besides..." and that predatory grin was back, only this time it wasn't for me and I certainly didn't envy whoever it was for, "I'll have more fun telling them myself." He tipped his champagne flute back and downed it in one gulp, then tossed his blonde hair dramatically before heading back out into the fray.

And all I wanted to do was go find an ice sculpture to sit on for a while. Sixteen years old, fer cryin' out loud. He's sixteen and already he has more experience than _two_ of me. Hell, next to him, I practically _am_ a virgin. That kid was born going on thirty—he's sixteen if he's a day.

Brat or not, tell you what, though—much as either one of them would probably rather die than admit it, he and his dad are a lot alike, and one of these days in the not-too-distant future Rufus Shinra's gonna be running this company under that perfect manicured thumb of his whether the Old Man is gonna like it or not...

And knowing what I do about those two, my money's on the 'not'...

"Y-M-C-A. It's fun to stay at the..." I crooned softly into the open channel. "Why the hell d'ya suppose they play this song at weddings? Over."

"I dunno," Rude mumbled into my ear. "I suppose because anyone can dance to it. And stop saying 'over,' jackass. I can see you right there."

Dinner had been served—and had been a huge hit, too, thanks to my man Alton in the kitchen—the cake had been cut, the bouquet thrown, the garter flung, and everyone was sufficiently toasted...er, so to speak. The bride danced with both her daddies, and now the whole damn thing was winding down into one big dance party. And the only reason I wasn't actively looking for ways to scratch out my eyeballs was because I knew this zoo was coming to an end.

"I wouldn't say _anyone_... " I tilted my head to the side for a different view. "I hope The Old Man doesn't hurt himself out there. It looks...painful."

"It's not exactly pleasant from here, either," he deadpanned.

"Hundred gil says we have to end up resuscitating him by the end of the night," I offered. "Hope someone remembered to bring the defibrillator."

"I am not the one giving him mouth-to-mouth."

"No? After tonight, it'd be like free trip to a bar—all you can drink."

"Not sure I could hold that much alcohol in me—"

"Need I remind you _both_ that this line is open for _official communication and emergencies only_?" came Tseng's authoritative voice over the comm. I could practically hear his teeth grinding as he'd said it. I wondered which vein would be popping out of his head. I squinted over at him in the semi-darkened dancing room and saw him standing there with his hand pressed against his ear trying to look "official." Screw that. I was bored.

"I'm officially sick of this friggin' song, how's _that_ for official?" I egged him.

"Not good enough," Tseng rebuked. "Now shut the _fuck_ up."

There was a long pause—enough that the line was dead long enough to make me think that there wasn't gonna be anything more on that. Then Rude popped on again. "Shutting up now, sir. In…three…two…one…"

I almost swallowed my mic. "Silence has been secured," I said in my most official sounding voice, biting back a snicker.

Tseng sighed like a parent who wondered where they went wrong. "You two are both going to hell," he muttered.

"Handbasket secured, sir, who goes first?" I said, grin plastered all over my face.

Even in the semi-darkness, I could see Tseng's eyes glowing at me like two silver daggers pointed right at my head. I immediately shut up.

And still that damn song played. Still catching Tseng's gaze, but without saying anything, I gave him my saddest puppy dog eyes and mouthed the letters, "Y-M-C-A…" as I did the little letter motions with my two index fingers. I guess it was about as pathetic looking as I could get—Tseng quickly turned his back completely toward me, but not before I saw him completely smother a grin behind his fist and feign a cough. He bumped into one of the guests, apologized with a curt nod, and stepped off. I saw the offended guest give him a curious look up and down…only to settle right on his crotch and give it a good, long glance, as if not quite believing what they were looking at. And then I remembered what Rude told me and I had to turn my back as well to keep from cracking up all to pieces. Man, score another one for Rude. I'll be laughing about that for months.

And just for the hell of it, score ten-thousand for me for making Tseng laugh, which ain't an easy task, lemme tell ya.

And score a million for Tseng for just looking so damn hot.

Yeah, the points were arbitrary, I know, but it's my damn game after all. And I was more than ready to play...


	3. Chapter 3

"Y-M-C-A. It's fun to stay at the..." I sung under my breath as I waited for Tseng to pick up his cell. It figures that'd be the last song we'd hear that evening, and no doubt the one that'd be stuck in my head for the rest of the stupid weekend. Let it be known that if I never hear that song again, it will still be too soon. It has robbed minutes of my life away, minutes I will never get back. And now it's gonna ruin my weekend, too. Actually, scratch that, this whole stupid wedding ruined my weekend. At least now it was finally, fuckin' over. There were only two things that I wanted to do here on out, and both of them involved a bed.

I had hung back after the guests clambered outside to throw birdseed and blow bubbles and crap at the bride and groom as they ran out of the hall. I'd been all but ready to run out right behind them, too, and keep going for that matter, but Rude got that job, escorting the bride and groom to their honeymoon in Costa del Sol…via the company freaking helicopter. Normally I pilot that thing and don't let anyone else touch it, but Rude's got a better bodyguard face than I do, and with all the press surrounding this stupid thing, he was a better front man than I was. Tseng's too pretty, I'm too goofy, but Rude's neck is twice the size of his head, so he got the part. "Don't fuck up my 'copter," I told him on his way out, and then he trampled over my foot on purpose like the overgrown gorilla he is.

I got the duty of chauffeuring the Big Cheese and Mrs. Cheese back to the Shinra mansion while Tseng stayed behind and supervised whatever was left, which wasn't much. All the important folks left long before the party was over to make themselves look more important, and nobody really gave a shit about the remnants. Tseng had them all whipped outta there in no time before I even got back with the limo.

"…Yes?"

"Package delivered," I sighed into my phone wearily. I was done wearing the straight poker face and I just didn't give a shit how tired I sounded at this point. " _Finally_."

"Everything all right?" asked Tseng.

"Yeah, yeah, fine. He was pretty loaded—I had to help carry him in. Don't think he recognized me..."

"Why do you say that?"

"He tried to give me a tip," I snorted.

Tseng grunted into my ear. "And did you take it?"

"Fuck yeah, I took it—he offered me a hundred gil."

Tseng chuckled at least twice this time, and I tried to push the phone up a little higher on my ear with the hand I wasn't using to drive with so I could hear it better. Even over the craptacular earpiece of my cell phone, that rich tone made me shiver—in a good way. I added, "...and then I felt bad and gave it back to his wife. She wanted me to keep it too, but I told her that it would've been the first honest wage I'd made all year, and I wasn't sure how to report it on my taxes."

I could hear the smirk in his voice. " _What_ taxes? I bet you've never even seen a W2."

"What's a W2?"

"Nevermind. Where are you now?"

"'Bout five minutes away," I answered. "You?"

"Where I said I'd be."

If our conversation sounded vague, it was meant to. We never mention names or give direct locations over open communication, just in case we have any additional ears listening in. We have codes for every-damn-thing. Not that tonight was any kind of hush-hush covert operation we were having to communicate orders through, but old habits die hard, ya know?

"See you there," I said and slapped my phone shut.

I swung the limousine past Wall Market back toward the general direction of the country club Hall where the reception had been. It surprised me a little that traffic seemed so light for a Saturday, and then I glanced at the clock on my cell phone as I stuffed it back in my jacket pocket and realized it was nearing two AM. Bars were already closed, so it's no wonder it was dead right now. I shook my head and slapped my face to wake myself up. Now was not the time to be falling asleep, Reno, you lazy sonuvabitch. Tseng was waiting for me. Not exactly the time to take a nap.

He was waiting out about a two blocks away from the reception hall in a nearby neighborhood that wasn't anything near as bad as the slums, but it wasn't exactly paved with diamonds, either. Funny how you can turn any corner in Midgar and be in a completely different world like that. The Hall was closed down, everybody gone, and for some stupid reason, it was in the bridal party's contract that everyone vacate exactly by 12 AM, or they'd charge them for a whole 'nother day. Five million gil on a wedding and I bet the hall was the cheapest expense of all, but God forbid we should be late turning in the keys to the place. That forced Tseng out, too, and I'd've been back here a lot sooner after playing chauffer to Cain and Able and all their minions, but the Old Man and Brother Dear had to sit and trade snide remarks to one another for an hour before calling it a night. That and getting him out of the car and into his big fat mansion had been an event in and of itself. No wonder I was fucking exhausted.

I came around my final turn and briefly scanned the area Tseng said he'd be waiting. It didn't take me long to find him: hiding in the shadows and leaning against a phone booth between a cable-car stop and a locked up newspaper stand, taking long pulls off a clove cigarette while reading the remnants of a Wallmarket Journal. I'd spotted him by the burning ember on the end of his smoke and pulled the giant car up to the curb. Still dressed in his complete tux, he looked as good as he did fifteen hours ago, as good as he ever does: Poised, every hair in place, and somehow just as comfortable in his surroundings as much as sticking out in them—like rosebush in a bed of weeds. It was a wonder someone hadn't tried to pick him up yet.

Grinning on that thought, I thumbed the switch to my window and leaned my elbow out. "Hey baby," I said, flashing my teeth at him, "wanna go for a ride?"

I heard the crackle of Tseng's clove as he coolly took in another long draught, turned the page to his newspaper, and exhaled before saying in a complete deadpan, "What makes you think you can afford me?"

"Aw, c'mon, I'm good for it!" I wheedled. "I'm in a limo, ain't I?"

Tseng didn't move from his spot. He looked me over once and said, "You're _driving_ a limo. That's significantly different than being in the _back_ of one."

I waggled my eyebrows. "I can _get_ in the back, if ya like."

The likes of a smile almost, but not quite, began to twitch around the corners of his mouth. "I don't do charity cases," he intoned.

I sighed in mock dejection. "Look..." I said, stretching out behind the wheel to reach into my front pocket. I felt the coin Tseng had tossed to me earlier that night and pulled it out. Without hesitation, I flicked the coin at him the same way he had me. Taking another drag off his clove, he only moved to raise his hand in the air to catch the gil. He turned it over in his fingers and glanced down at it, then looked back up at me, allowing that would-be smile to twitch just the slightest bit more.

"I'll owe you the rest later," I cajoled, my voice dropping suggestively lower.

He pinned me with that glittering gaze for a moment. "Why not?" He sighed longingly as he glanced quickly up and down the empty street and folded his newspaper, tucking it under his arm. "You're the best offer I've had all night." He pushed himself away from the phone booth, flicked away the clove, and walked around in front of the car.

I shook my head to myself and grinned. Best offer... Asshole.

He climbed into the passenger seat next to me, the dome light glowing dimly and allowing me to see him just for a few seconds before he shut the door and we sat in the dark again. Even so, I could see him watching me like he expected me to do something right there.

"Where to, _Sir_?" I said with a smirk, pausing a little longer than I really needed to before getting the car in gear.

"To the Tower. _Jeeves_." He said it like it was the obvious, practical choice. Good ole' Tseng, pragmatic as usual. I suppose I sighed a little louder then than I should've when I started to dive off in that general direction.

"What?" he demanded after we passed through a few traffic lights in complete silence.

"Nothing. It's dumb..." I shrugged and trailed off, hesitant to even mention this to him as some sort of stupid fantasy of mine, knowing damn well what he'd say, and yet unable to stop the oncoming train wreck that is my mouth. "I just had this idea that since we have this nice limo all to ourselves, nobody's expecting us to be anywhere—or really expecting us at all—"

" _No_ , Reno. No," he said sharply. "We are _not_ even entertaining this idea. Absolutely _not_." I half-expected him to swat me on the nose with the rolled up newspaper he was carrying.

I knew that's what he'd say, but it was impossible to hide my disappointment—and my embarrassment. I shut up again and said nothing, even though I knew he was still staring at me.

"Reno, you know we can't," he explained, still firm and resolute in his tone, but with a hint of an apology. "This is not even the company's limo. It's the President's _private_ limo—the only one of the dozen-and-a-half cars he owns. We can't just take it out for our own personal joy ride."

"Yeah, I know that, Tseng," I snapped, and instantly flinched at my own tone. I felt bad for it, and he was right—I wish I'd never mentioned it in the first place. But he didn't need to beat the point into me like I was a four-year old either. That or he was reminding himself. In which case, maybe all he needed was a little persuasion...

This was gonna take some careful conniving, but hey, I do that so well I get paid for it. I was quiet for another block or two, looking at the houses as I circled back through the Upper-Plate neighborhood on the way to the Tower. "It's just that—"

" _What_?" he repeated, irritation in his tone.

Careful, Reno…careful. "It's...it's like this neighborhood," I said, peering out the windshield a bit, then looking over to him briefly. I was doubling back toward the reception hall, the quickest way back to the Tower, heading toward the Upper Plate—too rich for my blood.

Tseng was watching me intently, so at least I knew I had his attention. "You know I've lived in this town for as long as I can remember and I think this might be the first time I've ever been over here?"

"You're not missing much."

"I don't wanna _live_ here," I explained. "I wouldn't know what to do with myself in a place like this. But, you know...it's kinda fun to visit."

He paused a moment and I glanced over again to see his brow furrowed in thought. "What does that have to do with the price of tea in Wutai?"

"Well, this limo," I said. "I don't think I'd ever _seen_ one before working here, let alone _been_ in one."

"You're in one now."

"Yeah, but like you said earlier—I'm driving. That's a lot different than being in the back of one." This time I was careful to keep out the suggestive undertone.

I could practically _hear_ the smirk stretching his mouth. "Would you like _me_ to drive?"

I shook my head like I was trying to agitate the little marble inside. "Oh, _hell_ no. I'd at least like to get back alive, thank you."

He snorted softly, and then fell silent again for a moment. We passed another few blocks. "You know, you're welcome to come back to my place," he said, his tone softening. "I want you to." He reached over to touch me but fell short of doing just that. Always the careful one. Damnit. And that right there was enough to set my teeth on edge. Was I that much of an embarrassment to him that he couldn't even touch me here? It wasn't like anyone else was around. My thoughts were racing toward a dead end fast.

I could've totally picked a fight with him over this. It could've easily turned into a fantastic yelling match at this point and made us both miserable and frustrated, and part of me _really_ wanted to. The day had worn heavily on both of us, and I know that physical frustration and sexual frustration are often confused. I really wanted nothing more than to attack him at this moment, in one way or another. And I knew all he wanted to do was get back to his place, whether I towed along or not. I figure he's only humoring me half the time anyway.

But there comes a point in time in any stupid argument when you realize what a total prick you're being, and yet you just plow right on through, making your case despite what an idiot you sound like. Fantasy that it might be, it was still a dumb idea, but at some point in time my brain ignored all that and went into total defense mode, trying to convince me that whatever Tseng was saying was _wrong_ and I was gonna make it my last mission of the evening to point that out.

Until I stopped and realized what a fucking idiot I was being. And this was not worth it. I didn't want to fight with him. Not at all. That was the very _last_ thing I wanted. Why is it you drive the ones you want further away because you just can't say what you really feel? I was not gonna fuck this up now with some snide comment that would've totally set him off. I forced myself to calm down and actually think before I started talking. And all this while I was driving, too. I was asking a lot of myself, here. If I had a piece of gum to chew, and I'd drop half my I.Q. right here.

"Yeah..." I gave up, calming my tone, and willing any further thoughts to just die right there. "At least we can finally get out of these stupid suits and never have to look at them again." Well that, at least, _was_ the truth. I still would've given my next paycheck to have a great make-out session with Tseng dressed like the prince he was tonight, here or _any_ where. He was so beautiful it was unreal. I mean, he's always the best looking thing on the Planet as far as I'm concerned, but tonight was nearly overkill, and I was already having a hard time keeping my thoughts in my pants.

I stopped at a red light. Stupid, since there weren't even any cars on the road or anything. I had no idea why in the freaking world it had changed to red. I could've even run it and not mattered, but this wasn't my car, not to mention it was at least three times as long as my Impala, Betsy, which is already like steering a oil tanker. So I sat and waited and what was probably the longest fucking light in all of Midgar, stifling about 3 yawns as we sat there in total silence. Man, what I wouldn't give to find an open bar right now. I rubbed my neck and reached into my shirt and scratched an itch just under my left collarbone. The starch in my new shirt was enough to make me want to crawl out of my own skin.

Tseng suddenly let out a sharp sigh. I looked over at his outburst. And then looked at him again when I saw how extraordinarily pissed off he suddenly looked. "I cannot believe you, Reno." And with that, he opened his door, bolted out and slammed it again, right there in the middle of the intersection. Stunned, I simply sat there and watched him from the side-view mirror march to the back of the car, fling the door open and throw himself into the very back seat. He glared hard at me in the rearview mirror.

What the fuck?

"Was it something I did?" I whimpered.

"No," he huffed. "It's what you're _going_ to do. You have two choices. _Driiiiive_ ," he said, drawing out the word, "Or get back here with me." Might've been my over active wishful imagination, but he said the last with a bit of a purr, I thought. To say I was a little shocked was an understatement. I'm not sure I had a heartbeat for a moment.

I swear to god, Tseng is just like a cat: from affectionate to psycho and back again in four seconds flat. I've never owned a cat. I've never had the desire for my balls to be eviscerated every time I walk into a room just for sharing floor space with another living being. Now I was considering it just so I might learn something about what makes 'em tick. Might give me some kind of insight.

Then again, I'd prolley just have my balls eviscerated every time I walked into the room.

"Uh...I'm in the middle of an intersection?" I said, stupidly. Yeah, I know I was stating the absolute obvious, but in my defense, he had just thrown at me some pretty extreme options, and vocabulary was not a high priority right now for me.

"Then I suggest you find a place to pull over," he said. "Or at least make up your mind one way or the other. Your light is green."

I looked back in front of me and sure enough. Also, the only running car in all of Midgar's Upper Plate was pulling up behind me quite rapidly. My luck. Worst of all, I had no idea where to go from here. This wasn't my 'hood and I didn't know the side streets. "Where, um...where d'you suggest I go? _Sir_."

He seemed content to just sit there and smirk in that self-satisfied way of his. I realized I was watching for his reaction behind me just as much as I was watching the road in front of me, and this was getting dangerous. "Uh, Tseng?"

"Turn right here."

I swung the limo around the corner, maybe a little faster than I should have. Thank god, it didn't break it in half. I drove up a semi-steep hill through a street full of houses that made the ones I just drove through before look like shithouse shacks. The lawns were perfect. The bushes were trimmed into nice little designs. They had fluted columns on the front porch, for crying out loud.

We approached the end of the street. "Turn left up here," he said, and I did.

From this point, the houses gradually faded out into an empty development high on a hill above Midgar. The road was paved and laid out with street names and everything, but no houses had been built yet. I looked around briefly at the empty lots. "No water," Tseng supplied. "They have no underground water source this high above town, so it's basically an empty development and probably always will be. Turn right."

I turned into what I quickly noticed was a dead end. "Right in the middle," he directed, and I pulled forward where there had been a driveway started but no house in front of it. I pulled up as far as the end of the driveway. "A little more," Tseng instructed.

So I drove up past the driveway just a little farther, until the back wheels of the car were still on the pavement and the front of the car was parked on nothing more than a dirt lot. I put the car in 'park,' engaged the parking brake, and turned off the engine. And once I finally looked out the window to actually see the view, I got a nice little surprise.

Midgar lay out before us over the ledge just below. We were high enough that we could nearly see the entire city. It sprawled there like a giant electric starfish, the plate like a heavy hovering gray cloud above it. Steam from the mako reactors bounced off the infinity of neon, lighting the whole area in a surreal green glow.

The Emerald City.

I looked up out the windshield and realized I could actually see stars where we were. The whole thing was surprisingly stunning. I never knew Midgar could look so nice. "Beautiful," I whispered.

"I was just about to say the same thing," Tseng murmured from the back. I tore my eyes from the view out front and saw him eyeing me from the rearview mirror. My stomach knotted and I gulped. I couldn't believe he was actually going for this.

He gave me a slight but significant little inviting nod, and I didn't need to be asked twice. Without trying to look like a frothing eight-year old that had just been given the key to a candy factory, I jumped out and scampered to the back of the car. The door was open by the time I got back there, and I threw myself in right next to Tseng, sighing satisfactorily as I kicked off my loafers and put my feet up on the bench seat adjacent to us. All the grace of a brainless scarecrow.

"Were you raised in a barn?" he asked flatly, thumbing a switch on the arm of the door he sat next to. The sunroof above us slid open to reveal the stars a little clearer, and the warm Midgar breeze floated in. For a change it didn't smell like raw sewage, or garbage, or chemical waste, either. How nice. The Universe was really lining up here to help me get laid. I'd have to thank it later.

I snorted and shook my head. "Yeah right. Nothing that classy. A barn would've been too nice for me."

I could feel him staring at me. I kept my hands folded in my lap and my head down, pretending to not be fazed by it. He kept staring.

"Why do you do that?"

I looked over at him and blinked. "Do what?"

"Pull the stray rugged mutt act. You're better than that."

I shrank a little in my seat. "I thought you _liked_ my 'rugged' look."

"That depends," he said evenly. "Do you do it because you don't care what anyone else thinks, including me, or because you feel you don't deserve better?"

"Does it matter?" If the results are the same, what difference does it make?

"Yes. This self-deprecating pretense you throw around. You don't need to act like that."

"Who says it's an act?" I muttered, staring down at my socks again. Looking for something else to do than face Tseng, I smoothed the satin ribbon seam on the side of my tux pants kinda marveling over the fact that I'd never noticed it before. When it got right down to it, there really wasn't a whole lot of difference between the expensive suit I was wearing now or my Turk uniform, just a lotta little stupid shit...like satin ribbon seams. That nerdy tailor had said to me that "clothes make'a the man," and I guess I was still trying to figure out just how I fit into that cliché. I think what Tseng had joked at earlier was more appropriate: Put silk on a goat and its still a goat. Bah.

"You really have no idea, do you?" Tseng said with something that resembled wonder in his tone.

I looked over at him and blinked. "What?" Like I was supposed to know what he meant by that? He just smiled at me a moment, and if I didn't know better, I'd say he was almost surprised at something—like he'd just discovered something incredible. Only he was staring at me, so I knew that wasn't possible. " _What_?" I repeated, although now my tone was slightly more defensive. He just wouldn't stop _looking_ at me like that.

Slowly he shifted and moved over closer to me. He put one arm across my waist to brace a part of the seat next to me, leaning in close, moving like a supple panther. And all the while he kept his gaze trained right on me, and I was actually kinda thankful we were sitting in the dark so he couldn't see me blush to the roots of my hair. I looked over at him, trying to shift in a way that accommodated a little space between us, when I realized he was actually almost pushing me back against the door. I wanted to put my arms around him, pull him to me, but that's not what he was doing here. I'm not sure _what_ he was up to, really.

"You have no idea," he said in a kind of breathy purr, "just how _sexy_ you really are."

Sexy? What? Me? Oh, _please_.

Normally that voice would have me hard in less than a nanosecond, but at that I just had to laugh. "Tseng, cut it out," I snorted. I held my hand against his chest, not pushing him off me completely, but not inviting him any closer, either. I was feeling a little uncomfortable under that scrutinizing stare. Tseng knows things about me nobody else does—probably even some things even I didn't know myself. That look he was giving me made me feel like I was standing in a spotlight, naked, and not in any way that was considered fun.

Tseng backed off just slightly and let out a soft little laugh. This really wasn't funny, and I don't know why he thinks making me squirm like this is. Except he wasn't laughing at me to make me squirm. He wasn't laughing to mock me. He was laughing because he was, what...? Fuck. He was _sorry_.

He propped his elbow up on the seat back behind us and slowly reached over to touch my hair. He played with a few strands falling into my eyes with a touch so light I could barely feel he was doing it. "You are beautiful, Reno. And you have no idea."

I shook my head acting on that self-deprecating manner he'd pegged me with earlier. "I'm _not_ beautiful, Tseng. Never have been. That's not me. I'm not... I'm not like you." I looked over and gazed back into his eyes, giving him a soft little smile. I maybe have looked kinda dopey then, but at least I was sincere.

He shook his head, the corners of his mouth turning up in a mischievous little grin. "Yes. You are."

I sighed gustily, growing agitated. "You're not gonna let this go, are you?"

"No, I'm not," he said, matter-of-fact.

"Why not?"

"Because you're wrong."

I rolled my eyes, beginning to think that crawling into the back here with Tseng hadn't been a very good idea after all. We were both too tired for this shit, obviously. Maybe going back to his place would've been better. Or going back to mine. _Alone_.

"Do you have any idea the things you do that turn other people's heads—turn them _on_?" he asked.

"I don't turn anybody's heads," I grumbled.

"Oh, yes you do," he cut in. "I saw quite a number of people checking you out tonight."

"Trust me, I wasn't getting any offers tonight. That sixty-five year old woman doesn't count."

Tseng went right on like I wasn't even talking. "People notice. You're very sensual." His finger lightly brushed along my eyebrow and it actually caused me to shiver a little. I shut my eyes for just a little longer than a normal blink, dying for his touch again. I didn't really care what the fuck we were talking about anymore. I wished he'd just shut up and kiss me already.

Tseng was determined, though, I guess. "Ever notice how often you touch yourself?" he asked, his voice like velvet.

I looked over at him and arched an eyebrow. "Hey now. I only do that when I'm alone. Or with you. Mostly when I'm alone since you don't seem to mind doing it for me." I grinned at him.

"That's not what I mean," he softly admonished. "You touch yourself. Casually. You run your fingers through your hair, you fiddle with whatever clothes you're wearing. You don't even know you're doing it. Like earlier, when we were stopped at the light and you had your hand inside your shirt."

My _hand_ in my shirt? What? " _That_?! I had an itch!" He _had_ to be kidding. "I wasn't playing with myself."

"You lingered..."

I laughed in a way that was practically hysterical. _That_ was the final play that got him back here? Scratching an itch? And I thought _I_ had some weird kinks. Remind me to buy some wool sweaters. "It wasn't on purpose."

"That's what I mean."

No, really. _What_ does he mean? "Wanna connect the dots for me here, Tseng?"

"You're not the least bit self-conscious." He tilted his head and gazed at me thoughtfully. "Unless you're with me. Alone."

Oh. That. Well... Look what I have to compare myself to.

"Why is that?"

I shrugged and turned my gaze down again, ultimately not really giving him much of an answer. "Never thought about it." It doesn't matter.

He nodded knowingly. "Yes you have. You're _always_ thinking." Shit. "You're not nearly as dumb as you pretend to be." Yes I am. "But you really haven't figured out why I want to be with you, either. Have you?"

I was too embarrassed to answer him, and I shifted uncomfortably, rubbing the back of my neck again, brushing away my hair— _fidgeting_. Every last thing he'd said was true, that I don't deserve to be his lover, and that I can't understand from our first time together what it was that attracted someone like him to someone like me in the first place. _Me_. Scruffy-little-mutt-Reno.

"You're touching yourself again," he said, interrupting my thoughts. What the..?

He stopped my hand in mid air, running it through my hair as I was, and pulled it away, bring my hand down in front of him to study it. "You have nice hands. Expressive."

I looked up from staring at my hand in his into his eyes and gave him a skeptical look. "Thanks. I'm quite attached to them." Actually, I do have nice hands. One of the few things about me I like.

"So that's why you want to be with me?" I asked him with an edge of sarcasm in my tone I hadn't planned on. "Because you like my hands?" He was still touching them, holding my hand, tracing his finger down the center of my palm, over the lines. Christ, it was turning me on. Why wouldn't he get on with it already? Who cares why he wanted to be with me, only that he was, here, now, and I was ready for him. Did we have to talk it to fucking death?

"I like _all_ of you," he insisted.

"All of me," I repeated.

"Every last bit," he promised.

Shit, I still can't believe it. Tseng is...is gorgeous. Beautiful. Amazing. Sexy. Smart. God, so many things rolled into one fantastic package. I'm a scruffy, smart-mouthed skinny jackass. No one should be falling over themselves to steal me away. Least of all him. "But I'm a pain in the ass," I reminded him.

"Yes," he agreed.

"And argumentative."

"Mmm."

"And insubordinate. And snarky. And sloppy. And—"

"Smart. And witty."

"Oh."

"And sexy," he finished, his voice a low growl. He leaned over me again, his face just inches from mine. I could smell him—earthy, and masculine and powerful. "I want you."

"Then have me," I answered enthusiastically. Wholeheartedly. Meaningfully.

"No."

What? "What?"

"Seduce me," he commanded me just then, moving away from me once more.

I sat up again, eyes wide. " _What_?"

"Seduce me. You always wait for me to make the first move."

"That's because you're always way fond of telling me how freaking horrible my timing is," I reminded him.

"Stop acting so desperate for a change and take charge. Tell me what to do. Show me how you can be sexy, that you're worthy of me. Turn me on, Reno. Believe me...you don't have far to go." He grinned, wider than I'd seen him do all night, shifting in his seat just a little, and my eyes went right to his crotch where I noticed his pants had gotten a little tighter as well.

He let go of me completely, and sat back away from me just a bit, waiting for me to do something. Watching me.

I laughed nervously. "Tseng, I don't know what to—"

"Yes, you do," he insisted. "You've been doing it all day anyway, you just didn't realize it. Just be aware of all your senses. Do what feels natural, what feels sensual. What feels _good_. Be confident that I'll respond."

"Will you?" Because the bastard loves to test me.

He sobered, his grin disappearing, straightening his face, burying any emotion behind a neutral mask. The perfect poker face. "Seduce me," he said, almost business-like. "And we'll find out." His eyebrow twitched just the littlest bit, and I took that right there as my invitation.

So I did the first thing I could think of and started to reach for him, but he put up his hands defensively and leaned away from me. "No," he snapped, turning his face away from me. He scooted back, putting a couple inches between us, but still facing me. "Don't touch me. Not yet... Touch is easy...it's obvious. Seduce my other senses first. Then we'll see." He settled back comfortably in the seat, and though his instructions were specific to no physical contact, his body language still remained open to me, folding his inside leg so his knee rested on the seat, his other planted firmly on the floor, and one arm resting on that thigh while he lounged, propping his elbow on the opposite arm up on the back of the seat to support his head on his fist. God, he was sexy, and I just felt stupid.

I sighed heavily and let my shoulders drop, shaking my head. "I don't know what to do."

"Don't give up so easily," he casually berated.

"I got no idea where to begin."

"Get in tune with your senses. Put them to use. Tell me about all the things you notice around you right now. What do you feel?"

"Confused?" I tried.

He rolled his eyes and slumped his shoulders a bit. "Not _emotionally_. Physically. Start with how you feel—literally. Touch. Skin is the largest organ in your body."

I cocked an eyebrow at him and shot him a devious glance. "Sure about that?" I grinned and let my legs fall open a bit in a suggestive manner.

"Yes, Reno," he admonished. "Sensuality doesn't have to be about your dick."

But I like my dick. It's my favorite thing about me. Tseng wasn't relenting in the least, though. I stopped and catalogued my thoughts for a second, trying to pinpoint all the things I was feeling at that moment. "I dunno. I guess the breeze is kinda nice," I said awkwardly, feeling the warm little current flowing from the open sunroof.

"Mmmhmm. What else?"

I thought some more, tried to feel what I could about my own body, my own skin. "My shirt is bugging me. It's stiff. Makes me itch a lot. Didn't really notice until just earlier, though. Right before you stormed back here," I said pointedly, looking over at him again and grinning, and he smiled back.

"Now. Tell me what you hear."

I closed my eyes, then let my head drop back against the seat, concentrating on the sounds around me. "I hear the rustle of your clothes...just a little, as you move. I hear you breathing...very quietly. I hear the breeze outside a teeny bit. I hear..." I tilted my head a little to the side, "...the engine of the car popping as it cools down. Not a lot else, really. I like it up here...it's quiet."

He gave another little hum of agreement. "What do you smell?"

I didn't even have to think about this one. "Mmmm, you," I said on a long exhale. There was more—the smell of the car, my own aftershave, but it didn't matter. I was reeling with the smell of him, his cologne, that clove cigarette he had earlier. And something I couldn't quite identify. Something sweet. "Your...what is that?" I asked, turning toward him just a little, my eyes still closed. "Your...hair?"

"Cherry blossoms," he said, almost shyly.

"Cherry blossoms," I breathed. I've been wondering what kinda shampoo he uses. "Smells amazing. Makes my mouth water."

"And speaking of..."

"Taste," I finished. "Mostly mint. A little chocolate. I stole a bunch of those chocolate mint things from the reception," I grinned. "A little of the cigarette I had 'bout half an hour ago, too, before I picked you up. I had another mint after that, though. Didn't wanna knock you over when I kiss ya." I lolled my head over against the back of the seat and looked at him, giving him a lazy smile, and he smiled back at me again in a way that made my insides melt. I felt my heartbeat quicken a little, and could hear my pulse in my ears, now hyper-aware of all my senses.

"And what do you see?" he asked, gazing into my eyes. He went to touch my hair again, but pulled his hand away, I guess thinking better on it until this little lesson was over.

But I gazed right at him and realized that if God, Himself was in the car right now, I still wouldn't notice anything but Tseng. The way the darkness accented the smooth planes of his face. The silver highlights in his hair from the lights outside. His eyes... God, his eyes. He has the most beautiful eyes I've ever seen. I could drown in them.

He smiled at me, as if reading my thoughts—all the things I knew but couldn't tell him. Oh, I wanted to kiss that smile right then. I wanted to feel his hands on me...I wanted to hear him moan, inhale that cherry blossom scent. Taste him, gaze at him...

I wanted to see him come.

That idea, the memory of seeing it before, shot a surge of lust right to my dick and I had to squeeze my eyes shut to get control of myself. Man, I was getting hard, and we hadn't even done anything.

"Look at me," he demanded.

I have no idea what I looked like then, but whatever he saw there must've been what he was looking for because he smiled again and shifted in his seat just a small bit.

"Mmm," he purred. "Now lift your chin a little. Bowing your head is a submissive act. When you gaze at me level, it's a challenge. I'm daring you to seduce me, and you should show me you accept my challenge."

I leveled my chin and met his eyes evenly, playing along with his game.

He smiled. "There you go. That's the confidence I'm talking about." Was it just my imagination, or did the catch-light in his eyes seem to spark just a little brighter there for a second? I lifted my chin a little higher, amused at this. Maybe this game wasn't so bad after all.

"Lick your lips for me," he purred.

I paused a second, almost fighting back a laugh, but feeling a little ridiculous again, I began to run my tongue from the corner of my mouth all the way around my lips in my best imitation of "sexy."

"No, no," Tseng shook his head. "Don't be tawdry. Just do it like you normally would. To wet them."

Okaaaay... I gave him a quick, puzzled glance, but sobered immediately and did what he asked. I licked my lips...big deal.

Tseng stared at me. The catch-light in his eyes _definitely_ glimmered brighter, and I'm not all together sure he was aware he was panting. "You do that on purpose."

I shrugged easily. "Of course I do. My lips dry out. I usually have Chapstick with me. Sometimes I forget."

He shook his head, emphatically, and I could tell by the little triumphant look in his eyes that he felt he'd just won an argument. "When you look at someone like that—those gorgeous emerald eyes, and chin high—and do that little thing with your tongue, you have no idea what that does to those of us on the receiving end. Throw in that cocky little smirk, and you could swoon a stadium. If that's not sexy, you certainly fake it well."

"I _never_ fake it," I said suggestively, my grin spreading, my voice lowering a notch. I heard Tseng inhale, long and slow, and saw him shift in his seat a little. Good God, this was really working!

Tseng cleared his throat, lowered the arm propped against the back of the seat, folded his hands neatly, and leaned back. He was keeping his patience in check. Tseng can read me like a book, but I was slowly working on writing my own about him: Tseng for Dummies. It was a slow book to write. Lotsa research involved.

"Continue," he invited, eloquently waving his hand in a small sweep.

My smile twitched. I still wasn't sure what to do next, but I was just gonna go with it and find out. Let's see... Touch was out, for now, but we got a good start on the visuals. That left smell, sound and taste, all of which would be a whole lot easier with the first one, but that was out of the question for the moment. I was gonna have to get clever.

Okay, not a problem. I can do that. I think...

He'd told me to do what I liked, what I thought felt good, and he would respond to it. I had a brief moment of inspiration. Maybe... _juuuuust_ maybe... Well. It might work. I guess there was only one way to find out.

Tseng said I couldn't touch _him_. But he said nothing about touching myself. With him going on earlier about how I'm always fondling my own body and he getting all hot over it, I was beginning to get a bigger picture here. Maybe seduction didn't have to directly involve the other person, physically. Maybe it was more about appealing to my own senses, what came naturally to me, and getting him to share in what I was experiencing. If it worked, this could be hella fun.

I stretched out, backing away from him, and leaned against the door. For a sec, I thought I might have to choose another position if the door's arm rest was sticking in my back, but the whole damn interior of the limo was so plush, the entire door was just as soft as anything else. The arm rest was poking me a little, though, which was actually a good thing, otherwise I might've been inclined to take a nap right there. There were much more interesting things going on now than sleep, though.

I settled back against the door and hummed in thought. Tseng quirked an eyebrow at my intonation. "Yes?"

"Nothing," I said, simply. "Just thinking. Plotting. Planning. You know how it is. Normal Turk stuff."

Tseng gave me an upward nod. "Ah. I've always liked the way you think," he smirked.

"Great minds think alike, huh?"

He studied me with amusement in his eyes. "Usually."

I bent my knee up putting my foot flat on the seat, the other still on the floor, similar to Tseng's position before he moved, only much more laid back and...available? Yeah...I liked that word. Seemed right.

I casually rested my wrist on my bent knee and studied Tseng. "You really think I'm beautiful?" I asked, innocently enough. Well...as innocent as I ever am.

Barely a moment's hesitation before he whispered, "Yes." And he'd said it as definitively as if he'd just been asked to verify his own name. In other words, he _meant_ it.

Funny thing was, I was actually beginning to _feel_ it, too.

I trailed my fingers over my knee, drawing small little circles around my kneecap for a second. "And you think I'm sexy?" I tried to ask with the same innocence.

"You know you are, Reno. Or at least you know you _can_ be."

My eyes never leaving his, I dragged my nails slowly up my thigh. I watched as Tseng's eyes darted over to follow the path of my hand, just briefly before connecting with my gaze again. If I didn't know better, I'd say he was distracted. Tseng. Who can focus like a laser. _Unfuckingbelievable_.

I trailed my hand over my hip, across my stomach, and his eyes followed right along, jumping back and forth between what my hand was doing, and trying to keep locked with my gaze. I sweartogod, I almost thought it was an act—I've never seen Tseng this outta control, and hey, for Tseng, this was about as" out of control" as he gets. It was a fucking turn on.

I drew my hand over my stomach and over my chest, reaching for the buttons on my shirt. With three already undone completely, I had decided I had to stall a second before I went farther. Not sure what made me decide this, but it just seemed like a good idea. Timing. Timing is everything. Even I know that.

I reached into my shirt, over my right pec, and kinda rubbed it a bit with the flat of my hand, as if giving myself a massage. And now that Tseng mentioned it, I guess I did do this quite a bit. I didn't go so far as my nipple though, or anywhere around it, really. I'm not doing this to turn myself on. But I like the feel of the smooth skin, I like the sharp angle of my collarbones. That was probably why I attacked his whenever he had his shirt off. It was usually the second place I went to right after his lips. I'd never thought as to why before.

I looked back into Tseng's eyes. It seemed like he was having a hard time deciding where to look, between my gaze and whatever my hand was doing. But whatever my hand was doing was just natural to me—doing what I liked. Just like Tseng had instructed. Only I was hyper-aware of it now, and a distant thought said this should've made me uncomfortable having him watch me this closely, this intimately, but in fact, I really didn't care if he was watching me, and I was kinda getting off on the idea that he was. All these dumb little things I do all the time and never noticed all along were just nothing but little turn-on's—at least according to Tseng, and for my money, that's all that mattered.

My other hand trailed over my other hip, and I felt a flat little lump in my pocket. "Ooo!" I said, suddenly excited like a little kid who'd just found some free candy. Mainly because I had just found some free candy—one of the mints I'd stolen from the reception. I thought I'd eaten them all, but I guess I had one left. I pulled it out of my pocket and flashed it like a little green foil-wrapped trophy. "Chocolate mint," I announced, happily.

Tseng actually laughed at that. I guess my sudden change was amusing enough to make him crack like that. Tseng so rarely outright laughed. It was like a little treat in itself—candy to my ears.

I held it out to him briefly and he shook his head to decline. I unwrapped the foil and presented the little chocolate mint wafer out to him as an offering once more. This time he hesitated, and I saw his tongue press against the back of his teeth when his lips parted. And then it hit me—this was my Taste! Oh fuck, can I be an idiot.

"You want some of this," I told him, and it was not a question. The double meaning was also intentional. His eyes widened just for a split-second, and though he didn't answer any other way, I took his reaction—microscopic as it was—as good enough.

As I shifted to lean closer to him, I thought of a couple things I could do with the chocolate. I could put it between my teeth and make Tseng take it from me, but that seemed too forced. I could tease him with it, but I didn't think I had had enough of my "lesson" yet to give that a shot. It wouldn't have been very natural for me. In the end I went the simple route.

I got up on my knees and leaned over him, close—close enough to feel the heat of him through his clothes—but not touching him. A second's of inspiration hit me and I realized I could kill two senses with this one. Tseng looked up at me, his expression neutral still, and I made sure his eyes were on me. I bit the little mint in half, not in any fancy way. I just ate it like I'd eat anything, chewed it and swallowed. Minty fresh, ahh.

Tseng still gazed up at me. "Open your mouth," I ordered, keeping my voice soft and low. My face was just millimeters from his, and I made sure he could smell the little mint on my own breath, hoping he was able to catch a whiff of the rest of me as well. My aftershave was faint by this time, but still there. I probably smelled like cigarettes a little, too, but luckily I hadn't sweat at all today despite having worn at least two extra pieces of clothing I usually wouldn't have. Not a whole lot of physical activity to be had at a wedding...my brush with Ironic Chef not withstanding.

He obeyed me, dropping his jaw just enough for me to slide the little mint carefully between his lips, still avoiding physical contact. He took it on his tongue, and I couldn't help the little breath that escaped me. Damn, who knew a _mint_ could be so fucking erotic?

There was a bit of chocolate on my thumb where it had melted from me holding it. I went to lick it off, but before I'd hardly moved, Tseng shot forward and caught my finger between his teeth. I was so surprised, I had no words to react with. This was clearly a violation of the rules.

He drew my thumb into his mouth, sucking hard on the pad, tonguing it with care, and at this point my thumb might as well have been my dick. He let go after too quick with a nice, wet sucking sound, and I stifled a moan, sitting back on my heels again. "Cheater," I admonished.

He shrugged with no other excuse than that damn little half-smile that had been super-glued to his lips all day. And then he sat, patience under control once more, like a good little Turk.

I looked at him, then looked at my thumb and shook my head. "I think you missed a spot," I said, and stuck my own finger in my mouth, still wet with his saliva, and briefly sucked on my thumb as well. I watched him as I did this, noting his reaction of Amused vs. Horny, and knew I was making good progress. Watching Tseng try to keep himself in control in this state was like watching organized entropy. Eventually that last thread would snap, and he'd lose it—my own little special String Theory. Depending on the situation, that wasn't always a good thing. But in this case, I was looking forward to it. Now to just pluck that string a little harder.

I wanted him to own me. I wanted to surrender to him. I wanted to be his, to give myself over to him totally, and this little act of seduction was nothing more than a way of letting him know it. Giving him permission. I couldn't stand it anymore. No more games. I wanted him to fuck me right fucking _now_.

I pushed my hands down the front of my pants, over my half-hard dick and stroked myself slowly through my clothes. I made sure Tseng's eyes were on my hand. "Tse-eng," I crooned as I stroked.

"Re-no," he responded lightly.

"Want you."

"I'm right here."

" _Inside_ me," I insisted.

"What?" he asked, feigning innocence. Tseng would have to do more than feign innocence to really try and pull it off. He'd just have to invent something new, altogether.

"Your cock," I spelled out.

"What about it?"

I was gonna deck him. "Oh, you think you are sooo cute, don't you?" I remarked, shifting forward again to stare closer into those glinting, mischievous eyes. Fuck, who am I kidding? He _is_ cute. And hot. Hotter than anyone I've ever seen. "Do you want me to draw you a picture?"

"Would you?" he asked, batting his eyes sweetly. "I'll hang it on my refrigerator."

I straddled his lap, and he finally moved to accommodate me. I gripped the seat behind his head and with a silly sort of smugness, I realized I still was not touching any part of him at all. I was straddled over his lap, but I wasn't sitting _in_ it, my hands were off him completely, and the only thing that was touching him was the air I was breathing on him from being so damn close to him. I needed him to _feel_ what I was saying, here. Because I was pretty fucking desperate at this point.

"I...want...you," I said slowly, spelling it out for him, breathing out each word across his face. I saw him close his eyes and pass his face through my words like feeling a summer breeze. "I want your dick...up my ass," I ground out. And then I realized that Tseng's hands were at my belt, undoing the buckle. "...I want you to fuck me. I want you to come inside me. I want to see your face when you do..." Zipper, now. God, this was fucking working. He better not touch me, or I was gonna go off like a rocket.

He opened my pants and slid them down my hips, kneading my ass with those strong hands of his. My balls ached. My dick ached. I felt like I'd been hard for hours from all the giddy anticipation from the whole day, even though I was still working up to a full erection. Tseng undressing me like this was beyond erotic. It was like he couldn't keep his hands off me. "Getting so hard for you," I whispered encouragingly.

"Already there," he said thickly.

"Fuck me," I demanded.

"Not yet." Why the hell was he holding back?

" _Fuck_ me," I repeated.

"Can't. Don't have any lube."

"Don't care." And I didn't. I really, really fucking didn't. He could fuck me raw and senseless. I wanted it to feel real. _Needed_ it. Wanted him to own me. Wanted to give myself over to him. I didn't care about seduction anymore. I was just desperately wanting him to fuck me before he changed his mind.

"Don't wanna hurt you," he insisted, even though he was reaching up my underwear, playing with my ass, spreading it wide.

" _Hurt_ _me_ ," I growled and finally snapped, grabbing a fistful of his jacket and crushing my mouth to his for a quick, heated, hungry kiss. I was not going to stop due to a technicality. I needed this too bad. "I _want_ you," I repeated, with feeling. I looked into his lustful eyes, his mouth glistening and bruised from where I'd bitten his lips. God, I wanted to devour him.

"Why?" he demanded.

"W-what?"

"Why should I give you what you want?" he insisted.

"Because, after today, I fucking deserve it!" I blurted.

" _Just_ today?" he challenged.

I stopped and looked down him, realizing finally where he was going with this. It was actually...sweet. I gently stroked his face with the back of my hand. I could tell him what he wanted to hear, tell him that, yes, without any uncertainty at all, that I deserved every ounce of attention and passion he shows me. But he's smarter than that, and he deserved more than a lie. "Today, Tseng," I said softly. "Let's start with today for now. I'll work on it for later. I promise."

Although, even admitting that much surprised me. Before I said it, I was almost positive every time Tseng and I were together would be the last. That he'd finally realize he was tired of me and drop me for good, leaving me humiliated and lost. God, I'm so totally in love with him and he has no fucking clue. He could destroy me, and I'd have no choice but to let him. I already belong to him completely.

But until I said I'd work on it for later, I didn't even know there'd _be_ a later. And now, I guess, it was okay to assume there would be. That's progress in my book.

He stared at me doubtfully for a moment and then finally he nodded. Progress doesn't mean things are gonna change over night. He knows that.

"So would you just get on with it and fuck me already before I explode? _Everywhere_? That'd be a helluva mess to try and explain to the Old Man."

Tseng grinned and leaned forward to sink his teeth in my neck. The feeling was outrageous. "Don't mark me," I warned him, more for his sake than mine. "People will talk." Even though I wanted him to. I really, really wanted him to. I wanted people to talk, to wonder how I, of all people, managed to get a lover who thought I was worthy enough to claim as their territory.

"They'll just think you got lucky with a horny bridesmaid."

"Don't want a horny bridesmaid. I want a horny Turk."

"Got one," he breathed across my skin, and then proceeded to suck my neck through his goddamn teeth.

"OHCHRIST!" I howled. Fuck marking me, that was gonna leave a welt. If I wasn't hard before, I was now. He slid his hands up the legs of my underwear, fondling my bare ass roughly. He spread me apart and traced one long finger down the cleft of my ass and I thrust my hips forward, banging my covered cock against his stomach when I felt the tip of his finger rest against my opening.

"No! Nnnngghh... N-not yet," I panted, trying to push his hands off me so I could get into another position. This from someone who was just begging for it.

Tseng stopped immediately. "What?"

"Don't...wanna...come all over the front of your tux," I managed to get out. Though, God, now that I'd mentioned it, it was all I could think about, and it was a fucking turn on. Still, didn't think he'd appreciate me blowing out over a three-thousand gil masterpiece.

He chuckled evilly and I felt my cock twitch hard at the sound. Damnitdamnitdamnit. I wasn't gonna last long.

"Got it covered," he murmured, and forced my hips forward with one hand on my ass, and then dragged the waistband of my boxers down with the other, freeing my cock where it bobbed eagerly in front of him. He scooted down in the seat, readjusting so his face with right in line with my dick. He looked up at me.

I was nearly out of my own mind. I pushed my hips forward. "Suck me," I demanded.

Without any other hesitation other than a knowing smile, he slowly sucked the head of my cock into his mouth.

"Oh, God, Tseng!" I dug my fingers into the cushy seat trying, for the life of me, to rip the Corinthian leather apart at the seams. Tseng reached down with his hand and cupped my balls, fondling me, gently at first and then squeezing me harder. His mouth was working its way down my length, taking me in deeper and deeper, and he was holding my ass, letting me—hell, _encouraging_ me—to thrust in his mouth over and over. "Slower!" I begged. I needed him to go slower.

He loosened his hold on me with his mouth until his lips were just gliding over me, softly, without any suction. God, it still looked fucking hot. Felt it, too.

"Fucking beautiful," I said, running my fingers through his hair. He blinked up at me through sooty lashes. "Want you in me."

I didn't want to come yet. I wanted to wait until he was inside me, but goddamn, his mouth. It was so good and amazing I barely noticed his hand on my ass had moved, and without any warning or sign whatsoever, he plunged two fingers right up into me, and I was totally gone, over the edge. I screamed as I exploded into his mouth, writhing violently as I rocked back and forth between his mouth and his fingers. It hurt like hell and felt wonderful, and I thought I was going to die right there.

Goddamn him. I couldn't even wait for him. But God, I'd wanted to come. Had wanted it all day. And he'd given that to me—twice now in as many days, if we were counting—and I had yet to give back. Well, it was time now.

I was barley done pumping down Tseng throat when I pulled my dick from his mouth and he withdrew his fingers out of my ass. "Tseng..." I wanted more of him in me. Not just his fingers.

I moved before I knew what I was doing—starbursts were still flashing behind my eyes, and I was having a hard time stringing two words together, let alone moving. I knew I had to get him in me. I slid off and collapsed on the seat next to him. My skin was about to burst into flames, and I tore off my coat in an attempt to bring down my body heat while Tseng pulled off my shoes and pants with incredible efficiency. I was naked and spread out, laid out for him like an offering. Surrendering to him. My dick was still way hard.

Tseng unzipped his pants and pushed them down to his thighs while I undid the buttons on my shirt and let it hang open. Better. At least I could feel the breeze floating in through the sunroof. I caught him trying to remove his jacket next, but I wasn't gonna have any of that. "No, don't," I pleaded. "Keep it on. Want to fuck you in that suit."

He looked at me cautiously, like I was trying to sell him something.

"Oh, for cryin' out loud, I'm not gonna suggest anything sick. It's just sexy. I've been fantasizing about doing you in that thing since I saw you parading around in it at the tux shop."

He arched a fine, dubious eyebrow. "I did _not_ parade."

"Oh, you _so_ did," I grinned, remembering precisely how he'd walked into the main room just to strut and preen like an overpriced peacock. He was beautiful then and he goddamn well knew it, and he was ten times that right now and just as fuckable— _perpetually_ fuckable.

He glowered at me and then slowly crawled over me, dragging my legs up with him to bend me in a ball. My feet hung in the air and I felt totally exposed and ridiculous and wondered how the hell anyone could find this sexy or seductive in any way, but I didn't care, and I'm pretty sure Tseng wasn't really thinking much about it at that point either. Not with the way his cock was tentatively prodding my ass at that very moment. Waiting.

I wrapped my legs around his waist, my bare thighs brushing against the obscenely soft material of his suit jacket, and I pulled his hips down at the same time I pushed up. I know it's gonna hurt like a son-of-a-bitch, but I just want it over with. I wanted to get him in me, the faster the better, and then hardhard _hard_ right to the end.

There was a little resistance, and then he pressed into me, right through until his hips were flush with my ass. "Holy SHIT!" I yelled, throwing my head back and banging it on the door's arm rest. I didn't care—I could've split my skull open at that point and it would have been a mere _tickle_ compared to what was happening below. My ass was on fire. I'd never had him inside me like this completely raw. He felt so huge and solid and FUCK. I wanted him off me. I wanted him in me. This was real—felt real. It wasn't a fairy tale anymore. Tseng was here and he was in me and God it fucking _hurt_. He was splitting me in fucking half.

"Oh Reno," he breathed, squeezing his eyes tight, while I was busy working on not letting mine pop out of my head. Who's brilliant goddamn idea was this? Oh yeah...mine.

 _Mine_.

I looked at him, into his eyes and he stared back at me, his gaze apologetic. Oh, no. He better not be sorry about this—this is exactly what I wanted. I wanted him, and I wasn't gonna let go, no matter how it felt.

"Don't want to hurt you."

"Too late," I grunted, wiggling a little to try and get comfortable underneath the weight of him. It took everything in my own willpower not to shove him away.

"Too soon," he said, his voice thick and strained. "We should've gone slower." He pushed himself up, trying to pull away from me, to pull out of me.

"No!" I cut him off, tightening my arms around him to keep him from moving. We'd gone slow enough. The buildup throughout the day had been excruciating. I wanted him here...right here. With me. Over me. Inside me. "I want it. This."

"I'm hurting you," he half-whimpered.

"No," I soothed. "It's okay. Just wait. It'll pass." Even if I didn't believe it right at that moment, I was hoping I wouldn't be proven a liar later. I _had_ done this before. Just not exactly _like_ this.

"Reno..." He dropped his head down, unwilling or maybe just unable to resist, burying his face in my shoulder, his breath hot and heavy on my neck. I could feel the rough crepe paper-like pattern of his vest against my chest, feel his hair tickling my face and shoulder where it lay across me. Tried to concentrate on the other feelings. Tried not to think about his dick shoved raw up my ass. Tried to think how fucking beautiful he was and how I just wanted to be with him any way I could. And, God, he is beautiful. So fucking beautiful. And mine. All mine.

It hit me then, right there, that he was here because of me, that he wanted to be with me, now, because of no other reason than _I_ had wanted it. That he wasn't moving because I needed time to adjust to him, and God, how that must feel for him—wanting to thrust into me, dying for it, dying to come, and not giving in simply because he was waiting for _my_ say-so. It struck me then that _I_ was the one in control, here. _I_ wasn't surrendering anything to him.

He was surrendering to me.

I own him.

He is _mine_.

And then, despite the pain, despite that it felt like he was splitting me in two, it was this new desire that began to take control of me, and it was building and building in me like a supernova waiting to happen, and I wanted him more than anything, then. Wanted him to thrust in me. To _fuck_ me. Hard. And knew he would—but only if I said so.

I dropped my hands and gripped his ass possessively. " _Mine_ ," I growled.

He reared his head back and gasped. "Oh, gods..."

I felt his cock twitch in me, but still not daring to thrust, waiting... "You are mine," I told him again, with feeling, like I believed it. Because I did. I believed it. I fucking _knew_ it.

"Yessssss," he hissed, his voice a broken whisper in my ear. "Tell me... Need you..."

"Fuck me," I commanded, finishing his thought for him. "I want you to fuck me, Tseng. Now."

"I'm hurting you."

"I want you more."

"I—"

" _Do it_." I gripped his ass tighter, pulling his hips down, thrusting mine forward roughly, clumsily. It took everything in me not to cry out in absolute utter pain, but God, it also felt fucking fantastic. There was a moment when we both waited—Tseng waiting to see if I was okay—and I looked up into his eyes and told him everything I could without saying it.

I need you.

I want you.

I love you.

"Mine," I whispered again, and claimed his mouth in a fierce kiss.

Tseng shuddered and rocked forward. And the next thing I knew we were riding one another, thrusting, fucking, God, _owning_ one another, and I opened my mouth to tell him harder, faster, and he responded immediately to every word I said. I heard him grunt. Smelled his sweat. Tasted his skin. Saw the look of pure lust in his eyes. I felt his power. All my senses reeling with him, every part of him, and all for me. Everything for me.

"Oh, FUCK!" I yelled again, and for the second time that night, hell, that hour, felt myself on the verge of orgasm. I held on just for one brief moment, for only one reason. I needed to feel him come. Needed to see it. For me. "Tseng! Now!"

"Nnnnnngghhh!" he responded, and I felt his cock pulse inside me at my command, erupting deep inside my ass. I thrust my hips up to meet his and watched as his orgasm took him. Watched the tiny implosion of light in his eyes before he squeezed them shut. Watched his head rear back. Felt his body tighten so hard. So fucking beautiful...God. Just...God. It nearly sent me over the edge as well.

"Tseng!" I warned him, letting him know I was there as well, and that I didn't want to come on his fucking suit, the one he kept on because _I_ told him to. Fuck if I was ever gonna let him take it off again. At least for the rest of the weekend, if I had my way.

And I knew I would.

He yanked his dick out of me and I yelped at the sensation of him suddenly not being inside me, and then I outright _screamed_ when he clamped his mouth over my cock just in time for me to jerk down his throat, feeling him suck my orgasm from me, drawing it out as I swore and sobbed and pumped every last drop left in me down his throat. And then his mouth went somewhere else, lower, fastening over my hole, his tongue fucking me, bathing me, soothing my poor, scorched ass, and I came yet _again_ from the feel of his lips and tongue, the mere thought of what he was doing, even though I had nothing left in me to unload, so my dick just kinda twitched and jerked against my stomach pathetically, and I felt like I would go nuts because I was never gonna stop coming. Fuck and shit. Oh, God. Oh my fucking GOD.

I am never walking again.

"Tseng. Oh. Tseng..."

He worked his tongue over me, up my balls, over my cock again to catch anything he might've missed before, kissing each of my nipples softly before looming over me. I grabbed the back of his skull and crushed my mouth to his, tasting my come, his come, CHRIST. That gorgeous, beautiful, talented mouth.

"You okay?" he asked finally when we came up for air.

"Dying now," I whimpered.

"Not." He pressed his lips to my sweaty forehead while I worked out how to untangle my legs from around his waist, seeing that I had no feeling left in them whatsoever. My toes were cold from all the blood rushing from my feet earlier right to my dick. My knees were shaking. He was gonna have to drive after all. A man can't come three times in an hour and expect to operate heavy machinery. Or even light machinery. Hell, making toast right now would've been way too big a risk.

"Am," I argued.

"Won't let you." He looked down at me again and smirked, humor twinkling in his eyes. Humor that I knew was at _my_ expense.

"What?" I accused.

"The way you look."

I snorted, too tired to give him a real laugh. "How's that?"

"Well and fucked."

"Uh, that'd be because I _am_ ," I stated.

"It's a good look on you. I want a picture of you like that in my wallet."

"You are seriously deranged, you know that?" I asked, not really caring that my words are slurring all over the place.

"Well, considering I let you talk me into having sex with you in the backseat of my boss's limo, out in the middle of nowhere, at gods-know what time it is in the morning, while wearing a suit that's worth about the same as a month of your salary, _that you wouldn't let me even take off_ , I'd say you're absolutely right on that assumption."

"I dunno. Sounds like you're blaming me for a good part of that as well."

"I am."

"So really...I'm the deranged one, here, is that what you're saying?"

"It is," he smiled and kissed me on the nose. It was almost cute the way he did it. "And beautiful," he added.

I lifted my head briefly, stared into his glittering eyes, and rolled mine. I flopped back again. "Would you stop it?" I moaned. It was over, now. Really. He didn't have to keep kissing my ass to get inside it. He'd been there, done that, enjoyed it even, but my ass was thoroughly traumatized now. It was gonna be a while before I recovered enough for more. No more sweet talking 'till I could at least sit down properly again.

"Would _you_?" he bitched back at me. "Get used to it. I'm not gonna stop. I think you're attractive, and I don't mind telling you."

"Yeah, well, you've got twenty-five years of snide remarks and dirty looks to deal with, here. You got your work cut out for you."

"I'm willing to take the challenge, Reno," he said seriously.

"I'm flattered," I deadpanned.

"You should be. I don't just give compliments to everyone." He thought about that a moment. "In fact, I don't give compliments to anyone."

Well, he was right about that. The biggest compliment I've ever seen Tseng pay anyone—besides me—was to shoot someone so that it killed them instantly instead of a fatal shot that bled them slow and painful. The fact that he was insisting I was attractive meant a lot. It meant he was friggin' crazy, for one.

I reached up and tenderly brushed his jaw with the back of my finger. "Tseng, it's not that I don't appreciate it," I told him sincerely. "I'm just not used to it."

"People were looking at you tonight," he insisted.

"It's the suit. Girls want anything in a tux. 'Clothes make'a da man,'" I said, giving my best impression of the lippy tailor who'd told me the same thing. "Giovanni said that. Then he called me names. See? That's the type of shit I usually put up with."

"Giovanni?" Tseng said, wrinkling his nose. "Gods, Reno, you can't have actually taken him seriously."

"I'm just saying that his reaction to me wasn't anything I haven't seen before—from guys _or_ girls."

"Yeah, he's also the most insecure prick I've ever met," he stated bluntly. Tseng shook his head in disdain and pushed himself off me, straightening his suit and putting himself back together. "He treated me the same way when I first walked in there."

My jaw dropped. " _You_?! You're fucking kidding me! He was all over you when we were there."

Tseng snuffed a quiet laugh. "Because I saved his business."

I paused in the middle of buttoning my shirt and aimed him a skeptical glance. "Damn. Just how much _did_ you pay for that suit?"

Tseng turned and met my gaze with a cutting look. "Actually, not nearly as much as you think I did. Or should have."

I finished buttoning my shirt and shimmied my pants up over my hips, and then it struck me what he was saying. I stopped and looked at him again. "You goddamn devil," I breathed, staring at him in reverence. "You conned him, didn't you?"

"I prefer to look at it as a mutual business arrangement."

"Oh, I bet you do. What'd you do?"

"Wasn't hard. I just went into our database at work, looked up local businesses with delinquent accounts, and found the first tailor that looked like they could use a little…charity. I ran a quick credit check on his business I.D. and found out he was about thirty-thousand gil in debt and about to declare bankruptcy. He owed us three thousand gil, alone. He thought I was there at first to shut off his power and harass him for his _highly_ overdue bill."

I grinned. "Well, no wonder he called you names."

Tseng considered this for a moment and shrugged. "I just told him I needed a suit for the wedding. Then I proceeded to let him think he talked me into buying the most expensive thing there. I already knew what I was looking for when I walked in there."

"Natch," I added, rolling my eyes.

"So then I played my cards. Told him I could either pay him for half of it—in cash, right there—or I could charge it when I came and picked it up a week later. Of course, charge card companies take a month to pay the retailer, and his bankruptcy hearing was the next day. Not the _he_ knew I knew that."

"So he took the cash."

Tseng nodded slowly. "He took the cash. _And_ I let him think he talked me into clearing a little of his debt with Shin-Ra."

"You _did_ that?" I asked.

He shrugged modestly. "Well, I had been meaning to test my system-wide access to our databases. I think I zeroed out his account." He looked at me meaningfully. "By accident, of course."

"You son-of-a-bitch!" I laughed.

"It's not my fault we never got any training on that."

" _Training_?" I blurted. "Our department isn't the kind that get offers to train, usually."

"Oh, like the Old Man's gonna miss it," he rolled his eyes. "I even went one step further and got him five new clients from work, not including you and Rude. _Expensive_ ones."

"Wow, Tseng, you're like a goddamn humanitarian," I said. "No wonder he fell all over you."

Tseng snorted softly. "He was _still_ a prick. He treated you like dirt."

"So, he hates Shin-Ra and wants to see us burn in Hell. Tell him to take a number."

"I should've stuck up more for you."

"I liked what you _did_ do to me, more," I purred, remembering the delicious way he had me in that dressing room, his mouth all over me. He looked over at me and smiled. "Think he knew what we were up to?"

"Oh, of _course_ he knew, Reno. Probably from the second we walked in there. It's also probably why he treated you like he did."

"Because he couldn't treat you like that?"

"Wouldn't," Tseng corrected. "He won't talk, we don't have to worry about that. I own him. I saved his business. I gave him clients. Paid cash. He's out of debt now because of me. He owes the world to me, and I didn't even do that much. The more in debt to you anyone is, the more you can use that to your advantage. And you never want to call in your favors too quick."

I looked at him, suddenly well aware that despite my claims earlier in the heat of it all, Tseng may have just let me believe I was calling the shots. He's so in control. Always. "Guess I owe you a few now, huh?" I said, trying to sound casual. I came _four_ _times_ in the last three days. He did _once_. And, yes, I _was_ counting.

"No, Reno," he promised, laying a hand on my cheek and stroking it with his thumb. "Never. You owe me nothing."

I leaned into his touch a moment, eating it up. It's these moments I almost like more than the fucking. Almost.

I suddenly grinned at him. "Want to, though."

I saw his pupils expand again just for a brief flash. "I told you, you don't owe me anything."

"Then I'm feeling generous," I said silkily, leaning into him and draping my arms around his neck. I pulled him close and caught his lips with mine, kissing him tenderly.

"Thought you were about to die," he reminded me.

"Was. I revived. How 'bout that?"

Tseng shook his head, amused. "Crazy."

"Horny," I corrected. "We'll hafta switch though. Don't think all the lube in the city will help my ass at this point."

He pulled a slightly pained expression, eyebrows bunching above his nose for just a moment. "Sorry."

"Wanted it," I reminded him, lifting his chin to look into his eyes. "Remember? You were there."

His eyes searched mine again, and I saw a slow, devious smile spread over that sensuous mouth once more. "That's my line."

"What is?"

"You were there... And you were there? And you, too, Toto—and there's no place like home."

I fought back a smile, knowing I was failing pretty damn bad at it. "No shit. Think you can click your heels three times and get us there, Dorothy?"

"I already tried. I only got as far as the back of this car."

I let out a snort. "Then you're gonna have to drive. I need some serious recuperation time here."

"Then move it," he said, pushing at me to get out of the back of the limo.

Slowly, achingly, I opened the door and spilled out onto the ground, feeling my knees virtually buck beneath me. I felt like I was eighty years old and my ass was about to fall out of the back of my pants. I needed a cane. Or a walker. Good thing Tseng was there with a steady hand at my back to guide me to the front of the car. He even opened the door for me like a true gentleman, and it took me a moment to get in and wiggle my butt into the seat in a comfortable enough position to ride in. My ass really hurt. It was a good kinda hurt, though.

Oh yeah. Way good.

Tseng crossed in front of the car and opened it, melting down in the driver's seat. He turned the ignition and disengaged the parking break. Before he took his foot off the break pedal, I reached over to touch his arm. "I'm at your mercy here, man. There may be no place like home, but I'd like to arrive there in one piece." I know his driving. This was gonna take a lot of trust.

He didn't look at me when he smiled, he simply took his foot off the break and eased the huge honkin' car out of the empty lot. Pausing a moment before heading down the twisted trail we came up, he suddenly threw the car in neutral and revved the engine to an insane pitch. I looked over at him in absolute terror, knowing if he threw it into drive, we'd spin right off the edge of the cliff.

"So," he said conversationally over the roar of the engine, looking over at me with a feral smile, teeth flashing like a maniac, "what's this I hear about me being a transsexual?"

Oh, shit.

I looked over at him and, before I could stick just _one_ of my feet in my mouth, I barked out a highly inappropriate, very giddy, laugh. Inappropriate, but understandable, given the time of night it was. And then I couldn't _stop_ laughing. So I did the only decent thing I could do—I blamed Rude. "Rude started it," I choked.

One look on Tseng's face said he wasn't buying any of it. Rude's sense of humor didn't swing that way, normally. And I was in trouble.

Tseng a transsexual. God, let me count the ways that was just _wrong_...

Tseng, who takes masculinity to a whole new level. Tseng, who is one gorgeous piece of man. A tall, strong, muscular man. Tseng, who would be exactly the wrong choice if I wanted anything close to effeminate.

Tseng, who has one of the biggest, strongest cocks I've ever had to pleasure—and pain—to meet, up close as personal...who had just fucked me so hard, I _couldn't even drive_.

Tseng who was most assuredly doing this just to fuck with me in _a whole 'nother way_.

And Tseng, who was— _is_ —mine.

Up close, I saw him in the dark, his shadowed eyes twinkling mischievously, and letting me know in that one look that just because I can get my way with him, doesn't mean he's still not in charge. Just because he can abandon control for a while, doesn't mean he can't get it back. That any delusions I have of thinking that he's totally mine are only because he lets me.

I looked over at him, and he just watched me patiently while I continued to come completely unglued. He was gorgeous. Absolutely the prettiest man I'd ever seen.

I'll get you, my pretty...

The thought of that made me laugh even harder.

Tseng was pretty. It was hilarious. And I was freaking losing it.

Ah, hell. Who am I kidding?

I am so fucking owned.


End file.
